


Those Days Are Over

by Elfbert



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2009-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: Long before Trip Tucker becomes Chief Engineer on Enterprise, he meets a young man. He is delighted when, years later, Malcolm Reed arrives on Enterprise, but both are hurt when Malcolm's past returns to haunt him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** A thousand thanks to SueC, who, as always, takes my rough and ready stories and beats them into shape!

My trainers pound on the pavement as I run. I can feel my breath rasping in and out of my chest. I haven't run like this for a while - not in the open air.

It's raining, and thereâ€™s a mist rolling in off San Francisco Bay, so there aren't many people around, but I see a figure up ahead, leaning against the railings at the side of the road.

As I approach I can see it's a man, and he's not dressed for the weather. He's in a tight white t-shirt and black leather trousers. I run by and he glances up, but doesn't meet my eyes.

 

I run the same route almost every night, and see the man most times, either on my outward or return journey. It feels like I almost know him after a few weeks.

 

Then one night I'm out pretty late after work, and I've just turned for home when I slip in the wet. I feel something wrench in my ankle and pain flares up my leg.

I limp to a stop, swearing under my breath. I lean down and massage the injury, hoping it will ease, then begin limping homewards. Just as I'm starting to worry if I'll make it back to my apartment I hear a softly accented voice.

"Are you all right?"

I look up and see the man I pass each day.

"I, er, just twisted my ankle."

My southern American drawl contrasts sharply with his accent - English, I think.

"Can I do anything to help? Call you a taxi?"

"I suppose I could do with a hand, if you're offering," I answer, knowing that's not what he expected me to say. Something in me wants to get to know him a little better though.

"Of course," he says, but looks even more shocked when I gesture down the street.

"Just some company, at least," I smile and begin limping again.

He glances around, then falls into step with me. He looks around us all the time, alert to our surroundings.

"I'm Charles Tucker--but my friends call me Trip." I hold out a hand to him.

"Er, Mal." He shakes my hand.

"I feel like I know you already, after all this time," I say, looking to him for reaction.

His eyes flick onto my face for a fraction of a second before he looks back to the pavement.

As we walk further my ankle begins to stiffen up. In the end I stop and flex it a bit, trying to ease it. 

Mal looks concerned. "Have you injured it badly?"

"I don't think so."

"Let me look. Sit down there," he gestures at some steps.

His hands are gentle as he pushes up my sweat pants and assesses the damage.

"It's not too bad - you've damaged the muscle slightly - torn it, maybe. And the ligaments might be strained. You should rest and ice it."

"You a doctor or something?" I ask, smiling.

He looks slightly embarrassed. "No, nothing like that. But you should see a doctor, get someone to look at it. Get a professional opinion." He pulls me up to standing. "Lean on me, or call a taxi. You really shouldn't be walking on it."

I smile and put an arm around his shoulders. "I only live a few blocks down."

He nods and begins walking, bearing a lot of my weight.

 

After a short walk I point to an apartment building.

"That's home. Come on up - have a drink, payment for helping me home." I give what I hope is a winning and friendly smile.

He looks up at the block, and I think I see something between awe and envy in his eyes. "It looks a nice place," he says, sounding nervous.

I nod. "Where are you based? You're not from around here."

Again he looks awkward, almost haunted. "I, er, my family are English," he says. "But I was raised in different places. Mainly Malaysia and the UK."

I hit the button to call the elevator and soon we're outside my apartment. I open the door and gesture Mal in. God knows why, as I've only just met the man. But something about him intrigues me.

He looks nervously around my sitting room, then returns to my side. "You should sit down, take the weight off your ankle. Do you have any ice?"

"Iâ€¦er, maybe in the kitchen." He turns to go and look and I call after him, "Grab us both a beer too, while you're there." 

He pauses, then smiles slightly and gives a sharp little nod before disappearing into my small kitchen. He returns quickly with both ice and beer and proceeds to sort out my ankle. I'm half amazed that I'm letting a total stranger do this to me, but he has a gentle efficiency and I don't interrupt his work. Besides, he doesn't seem to be acting like this is anything out of the ordinary.

Once he's done propping my ankle on the end of the sofa he smiles at me. He's a beautiful sight; his wet clothing clings to his toned body. I smile back - and the next thing I know is soft warm lips kissing my mouth and down my neck. A hand comes to rest on my thigh and suddenly my head catches up with the rest of my body.

There's a total stranger kissing me. A totally male stranger. I jump away as far as I can, my back hitting the sofa cushions, my hand on his chest pushing him backwards so he has to put his own hands out to steady himself.

"Wait." I nearly choke on the word.

He looks at me, a puzzled expression on his face. "If there's something you'd like in particular, just ask," he says.

I'm speechless, and my shock obviously shows.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he asks. "This is why you picked me up?"

"P-picked you up?" I stutter, my hand still held out, as if to ward him off.

"Oh Jesus." He stands up. "What the fuck do you think I am? What do you think I'm doing hanging around on street corners every night? Waiting for my mother?" He grabs his jacket and walks out.

As the words sink in I realise what's been staring me in the face for weeks. He's a prostitute. I don't know why I didn't realise. I'm so stupid. I want to follow him, but I don't know why. My hand moves by itself and touches my neck where his lips were. And it begins to dawn on me. I'm attracted to him. Him. A man. And for some reason I'm not as shocked as I think I should be.

I sit in thought, my still-wet clothes rapidly cooling off, despite the warmth in my apartment. His words come back to me. What did I think he was doing on the street every night? I come to the conclusion that I didn't think at all. He was just a part of the scenery. I missed him when he wasn't there.

So now I have to figure out what to do.

 

I can't run for the next few days. I had my ankle checked out and Mal was spot on with his diagnosis and treatment, which makes him all the more intriguing to me.

On about the fourth night I decide to walk out to his 'spot'. It's a slightly dreary night, with mist threatening the city.

I reach his stretch of road to find it deserted and my heart sinks. I begin to think that maybe he's moved on, after what happened, and I might never find him again. Then I chide myself - just because he's stuck in my mind doesn't mean I've stuck in his.

As I'm standing there in thought a vehicle pulls up. Mal climbs out and slams the door, watching as it drives away. Then he turns to walk to the pavement and he sees me.

He unselfconsciously stuffs what I assume is money into the pocket of the faded jeans he's wearing, then swings a leg over the railing and hops over with ease.

"How's the ankle?" he asks.

I nod, dumbly. "It'sâ€¦erâ€¦getting there."

He gives me a lopsided grin, almost pitying, then gestures to a couple of steps in a doorway. "Then you should still be resting it. Take a seat in my office."

I smile and sit down, glad that he seems okay with me.

Once he's seated too I look sideways at him. He looks tired, kind of slumped. The spark that I've seen in him on previous nights isn't there. He rubs a hand over his face, making himself look very vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I walked out the other night - I'd had a bad day. I made an error of judgement and took it out on you. It wasn't fair."

My mouth hangs open. He's apologising to me - me, the guy who gave him every wrong signal possible and dragged him halfway across the city for no reason.

"Itâ€¦youâ€¦Iâ€¦I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give you the wrong idea. I didn't realiseâ€¦" I trail off.

He shrugs. "I was surprised to see you here again. Most people who don't realise what I do don't want anything to do with me once they've found out."

I nod, then hear myself say "There are a lot of things I'd like to do with you."

He looks away quickly, staring at the pavement.

"Fifty gets you a hand job, seventy for oral, hundred for full. Anything kinky is extra."

The difference in him is obvious. He's gone from showing me a little of himself to coldly listing his prices as if he's never met me before. I suddenly wish I could have the other Mal back, but I know I've changed things between us now, and I can't change them back. So I just plough on.

"One hundred?" I know I can easily afford it.

"Yeah. And if you want a hotel room, you pay that too. I know places who'll charge for the hour if you don't want to pay more."

I swallow. "What about my place?"

He looks up, and for a moment there's a hint of a smile in his eyes. "You're sure you know what you're letting yourself in for this time?"

I just nod.

He stands, obviously ready to go, so I follow his example.

As we walk he looks across to me. "So what changed your mind?"

I look blank, not quite knowing what he means.

"Last week you were mortified when I offered, and now you're asking," he expands.

"I, ah, did some thinking," I answer.

He nods, looking like his thoughts are miles away. I want to ask him what he's thinking, but our relationship has changed now I'm a customer.

Relationship. As if.

 

We get back to my place and I let him in. He smiles when I take his jacket, although it looks a little forced now. Then he kicks off his shoes. I wonder how many other stranger's houses he's walked in to, how many other people's beds he's been in.

"What do you want then, Trip?" he asks, and I'm somehow touched that he remembers my nickname. Then I realise he's still looking at me, and I'm woolgathering. I don't have a clue what to answer.

"Iâ€¦uhâ€¦I don't know," I stutter.

"You want to top or bottom? Or have you changed your mind? You can ask for anything, I won't be shocked."

And that just makes me wonder what he's been asked to do - what he's done - in the past.

"Er, what would you like to do?" I manage to say.

He smiles a little smile and walks toward me. He slides his fingers inside my waistband and pulls me against him, reaching to kiss me on the lips. He trails wet kisses down my neck, and without really knowing how he's done it I'm sitting on the sofa. He kneels between my legs and continues to kiss me. His lips are soft in contrast with his rough stubble. It's the first time I've kissed a man. I mean, really kissed. I like it; I don't feel like I have to be too gentle. It's like I can really get stuck in. I'm not into rough sex or anything, but with women I've always beenâ€¦well, this is just different. I can imagine what he wants because I know what I want.

Mal's pushing at my shoulders and for a moment I wonder why, until I realise he's unbuttoned my shirt and is now removing it. His warm wet mouth trails down to my nipple and he gently bites the hardening nub, then licks it. My cock jumps, straining against my clothing. No one's ever done that to me before, not using their teeth. I know he's heading for my other nipple and it's like torture, waiting for the pleasure that I know is to come. He drags his tongue over it, then blows cold air across, making it hard as a pebble before gently biting it.

I realise he has a talent for distraction, as my fly is now undone. He kisses down my front, pushing me backwards until I'm slumped on the sofa. His tongue swirls around my navel, making me squirm. He pulls on my pants so I obligingly lift my hips. My cock springs free as he divests me of both my underwear and pants in one go. The cooler air of the room touches my skin for a moment before his warm breath replaces it as he kisses across my hips and down one thigh, removing my shoe and sock. He does the same on the other side, and he's even careful of my ankle. Once he discards my trousers, leaving me sprawled naked across my sofa, he sits back on his heels.

"Made up your mind what you want yet?" he asks.

I'm not sure I have the power of speech, so I shake my head. He seems to be doing fine without me saying anything.

Looking at him I realise I'm totally naked while he's only taken off his shoes.

"Take your shirt off, wouldya?" I ask.

"Oh, so you do have some ideas?" he smiles as he removes the garment.

I look him up and down. Both nipples have silver bars pierced through them. I swallow at the sight, wanting desperately to reach out and touch them. I've never thought I'd find something like that sexy until now.

As for the rest of him, well, I knew he was slim, but seeing his pale skin almost stretched over his ribs makes me realise he's skinny, not just slim. His wiry muscles ripple as he moves and rests his forearms on my thighs.

"Anything else?" he asks.

I grin and shrug. His fingers are tickling as they ghost over the sensitive skin on my inner thighs.

He leans forward and takes my cock into his mouth, its entire length in one go. I gasp, trying not to buck my hips. In response he begins to swallow, his throat muscles massaging the tip. I nearly come, and I think he senses how close I am because he stops, pulling back, gently sucking me.

I groan as the warm wetness leaves me. A warm gust of air as Mal laughs makes me look down.

"Been a while, has it?" he asks.

I can't help but smile when he does, so I nod. He has no idea.

"You got some lube?' he asks, all business again.

I swallow. Of course I haven't. And it's just starting to dawn on me what I'm about to do. It's meant to hurt, isn't it? I mean, how can it not hurt, having someone's cock up your ass? I know some people enjoy it, obviously, but they'reâ€¦well, they're gay. I'm not. Or I wasn't. Now I'm not so sure.

I guess he takes my silence as a negative, as he stands up and walks over to his jacket, pulling something out of the pocket. As he walks back toward me I see he has a plastic sachet in his hand. I should have known he'd be prepared. After all, he is a professional.

"So, you want to top or bottom?"

Top, now, I'm guessing that would mean I get toâ€¦well, that can't be bad, can it? Just like fucking a woman, I suppose. At least I hope that's what it means.

"I want to take you," I answer, just to be sure. "But not here, on the bed."

He glances over his shoulder to where I gesture.

"Sure."

He reaches out for my hand and I lead the way, feeling my heart beating at a million miles an hour. I'm not sure if it's arousal or fear. Probably both.

When we reach the bed I realise he's still in his jeans. Nervously I reach for his waistband, and I can see my fingers shaking. I touch his stomach and slide my fingers inside the heavy denim. As I pull on it I feel each stud of his button-fly come undone. I'm not sure what to do next, but he obviously realises and takes my hands in his. He slides our joined hands around his hips and pushes down over his butt, sliding his jeans off and onto the floor.

My cock is pressed between our stomachs as Mal steps into me, leaving the jeans pooled on the floor.

I feel like the most awkward of schoolboys, on a first date, not knowing what to do with myself.

He pushes me back onto the bed.

"Relax. You're meant to be enjoying this," he says as he rolls me onto my front and straddles my thighs. There's a part of me that's terrified of another man being this close to me, especially naked. But there's another--rather prominent--bit that just wants to bury itself inside this man.

Then strong fingers begin to massage my shoulders, neck and back. I relax into the touch and sigh as his mouth sucks, licks and kisses down the same path as his hands take.

Then his tongue starts going where no manâ€¦hell, no *one* has been before. The warm wet probe slides between my buttocks, touching me in one of the most intimate areas. I want to move away - it makes me feel uncomfortable, him doing this. I can't believe anyone would want toâ€¦just the thought of it makes me feel a bit funny.

But I don't move away. I just put exactly what he's doing out of my mind and concentrate on the sensations.

It does feel amazing, intimate and gentle. I'm beginning to get hard again. I never knew this kind of stuff would have such an effect on me.

Finally he crawls up the bed to lie beside me, then pulls me on top of him.

"Come on, if you want to be in me," he says.

I'm suddenly not sure about the mechanics of this. I had kind of assumed we'd do it doggy-style, but Mal's lying under me like a girl.

He reaches out and grabs the sachet of lube, ripping it open with his teeth before squeezing some onto his hand. He holds it for a second, warming it I guess, before reaching down and sliding his hand over my cock. I close my eyes and try to keep some semblance of control. Once my cock's liberally covered he takes my hands in his, sliding his slick fingers over and around mine until both my hands are slippery with lube.

Then he raises his legs, giving me obvious access. As I kneel up he rests his legs up on my shoulders, and as I look down the sight takes my breath away, seeing him so open and trusting. And all mine.

I position myself carefully and begin to push in, my gaze focussed on where our bodies join. Out of the corner of my eye I see his hands gripping the sheets. I can hear him panting too, as I am. It does feel amazing, and my fingers press harder into him, sliding over his skin with the lube, but holding his hips tightly, despite the fact I can feel him trying to move.

I have an overwhelming need to thrust, so give in to my need and push the final inch or so in hard and fast, pumping my length into his tight hot hole.

"Oh, God, Mal," I moan, finally looking up at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, head to one side, his bottom lip is caught between his teeth hard. I can hear his ragged breathing matching mine.

As I thrust deeply, speeding up, his breath hitches and he lets out a moan. "Tripâ€¦" he half-sobs. It pretty much sends me over the edge, hearing him say my name, and a second later I come, instinct taking over and making me need to get as far inside him as I possibly can.

When I'm done I catch my weight on my arms and roll off him. I plant a tired kiss on his cheek and drape an arm over his stomach.

"That was amazin'," I pant.

He covers my hand with his and pulls my head down to rest on his chest. He wipes his face on his hand, above my head. I'd like to be able to see his expression , but his arm is keeping me pressed to his chest.

After a few minutes he presses his lips into my hair.

"Is it ok if I shower?" he asks.

I nod, feeling the loss of his warmth as he slides out of bed. I take a moment, then decide I have to pull myself together. However great that might have been, we're not a couple. We weren't making love. It was a business transaction.

I feel slightly sick when I think of it that way. I mean, he enjoyed it. He likes me.

I paid for him to make me believe that he enjoyed it and that he likes me.

Payâ€¦I haven't paid him yet. 

I crawl out of bed go back into the other room to find my wallet in my pants. I pull out a hundred note and hold onto it as if it somehow forms a link to Mal.

A few minutes later he walks out of the shower room, a towel wrapped around his waist.

I hold up the note, not knowing what to say.

"Just leave it on the table." He gestures to the low table in the middle of the room. I comply, watching as he quickly gathers his things and begins to dress.

I hang around self-consciously, not knowing what to do with myself.

He looks up at me from where he's sitting on the sofa, putting on his shoes.

"Are you intending to spend the rest of the evening naked?" he asks, a gentle smile on his face taking any sting out of the words.

"Iâ€¦uhâ€¦need to shower," I stutter.

"Go on then, I can see myself out."

He looks tired - almost sad. I guess he's doing this to make it easy on both of us when he leaves. Or maybe he wants to get out fast because he's got another customer lined up.

I smile awkwardly. "I'll erâ€¦see youâ€¦around."

He nods as he stands up and buttons his shirt up.

 

Once I'm in the bathroom I hear the door close. It's as if I've been punched. The whole scene I built up in my head comes crashing down with that sound.

 

I shower, trying not to remember what I've just done.

Once I'm showered and dry I guess I've got a choice - either wallow around in my own self-pity or get out and have a life.

I head for the vid-link and reach to dial up Jon Archer - one of my best friends.

That's when I notice it. On the table lie the hundred credits, untouched.

My first thought is that Mal's forgotten them. Then I see a light blinking on my message panel. I press the button to retrieve it.

Mal appears on the screen, obviously in the public vid-booth on the street.

"Tripâ€¦Iâ€¦I left the money." He glances around himself, looking uncomfortable. "I left it becauseâ€¦because I think that was your first time, with a man." He looks away from the screen again, this time down at the pavement. "Maybe I'm wrong. Anyway. No one should have their first time with a whore. You're better than that. Go and find someone. Someone just for you, someone special. You don't need to pay for sex. You need someone to love, and you deserve someone to love you." He finally looks directly into the camera, making his grey eyes look out from the screen on my desk and into my very soul. Then the signal cuts.

It takes a moment for this message to sink in.

Was it that obvious that it was my first time? I thought he was enjoying himself. And I didn't treat him like aâ€¦rent boy. I can't bring myself to think of him as a whore. Andâ€¦I'm not sure I want anyone else. I'm not gay; I'm just in love with him.

I sit at my desk, not knowing what to do with myself. Then I decide, whatever else happens, I need to find out a whole lot more about the physical side of things. So I start pulling files and information on male/male sex.

I've always thought I was a pretty well informed guy. Not anymore. Now I've read about what other people get up to I feel like I must've been living in a box my whole life.

And I'm now very aware that he didn't come - despite a whole lot of people who are convinced that being on the bottom is far better than being the top. I guess when we wereâ€¦I was having sex with him I just couldn't imagine anyone enjoying that side of it that much.

So, this gorgeous enigma of a man has put up with me being a total idiot, he's tried to cope with my mixed signals and me not knowing my own mind, he's been on the receiving end of my lack of experienceâ€¦and he didn't even take the money.

In fact, thinking about my lack of experience I'm starting to wonder if the clenched fists and lip biting were really him in the throes of ecstasyâ€¦or in pain.

Apparently there are all sorts of things that are meant to happen before the penetration bit - to make it less painful.

I get a sudden urge to go find him, tell him I'm sorry, that I didn't mean to hurt him, that I love him. I dress to go outside quickly, but stop as I stride across the living room. What am I doing? Somehow I've got it in my head that I'm important to him; that he cares about what I think and do. And it's probably just not true.

My door chime rings, breaking into my thoughts. My heart jumps at the thought that it could be him. I rush to open the door.

But what greets me isn't the slight muscular frame of Mal, but the substantial figure of Jon Archer.

"Heya, Trip."

"Jon - er, come in."

He's smiling widely. Just what I need.

"I was at a loose end, thought I'd see if you wanted to go for a drink?"

I nod dumbly. I'm glad of the potential distraction, really. I'm just not sure I'll be the best company.

I turn to get my jacket and notice the screen on my desk is still showing the search I'd done. I try to reach it without drawing any attention to myself, and quickly press the 'off' switch.

"Where d'you want to go?" I ask, trying to act relaxed.

"Oh, I don't know. Just walk somewhere close, shall we?" he says, looking around.

Those damn hundred credits are still lying on the table. And I realise the bed is still unmade. I suddenly get this awful feeling that he'll guess what I've done--but I know that's impossible. I'm being paranoid. After both our showers it doesn't even smell of sex in here, just steam and shower gel.

"Er...sure, whatever, sounds good," I stammer at Jon.

 

We find a quiet-ish bar and have been sitting in it for nearly an hour when Jon suddenly thunks his glass down on the table in front of me.

I jump, suddenly aware I don't have a clue what he's been saying to me. I've been staring into my beer, a million miles away.

"What's up, Trip?" he asks, sounding exasperated. "You've been distracted all evening."

I shake my head. "Just thinking on things, I guess."

"Things you want to talk about?"

I look up, tempted. But what would I say? 'Yeah, Jon, buddy, I fell in love with a rent boy and now I'm obsessed.'

I shake my head. "Not really."

"Well, if you decide you do, I'm always here."

I nod, grateful to have such a good friend, even though I know I could never take him up on his offer.

 

We chat about what we're both up to work-wise instead and a few common interests we hold. Then I realise the bar's closing and we're gently thrown out onto the streets. Where he is. I look at Jon, not really knowing what to do with myself.

"Sorry, Trip, I've got an early start, or I'd suggest we go on somewhere."

"No--it's okay. I'm kinda beat anyway," I try to grin, so he knows it's ok, but I'm not really feeling in a smiley mood.

We say our goodbyes and I begin to trudge home, perversely enjoying the cold and lonely streets. I feel like it matches my miserable mood. Like I deserve to feel like this.

He's probably still out here, working. Even after I hurt him and wasted half his evening.

 

Work means I have to go away for about a week - great timing, just when I could do with some time to sort myself out.

So it ends up that I don't see him until I run again.

He's sitting on the railings as I approach, talking to a man who's leaning beside him. At first I think I should just run past, but I can't bring myself to. It's obvious the guy he's talking to isn't a customer as he chats to Mal. In fact, I'm guessing he's another rent boy.

The gaze from those stormy blue-grey eyes falls upon me, and I see Mal say something to the man next to him, who immediately looks around at me.

Mal climbs off the rails, and I notice he doesn't move with all of his usual fluidity. I'm immediately hit with a wave of guilt so strong I almost gasp. What if I did that to him? Then I don't notice anything except the slightly sad smile on his face as he approaches me.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you again," he says in that damn sexy British accent. "It's been a while."

I nod, although the time has flown by for me.

"I had to go away - work," I explain.

He casts his eyes down, a habit I notice he has. "You're just passing then?" he asks the pavement, not meeting my gaze.

And I want to say 'yes'. But now I've seen him, and he's so close. My body's remembering all those wonderful feelings, and my imagination is thinking of all the things I've read about.

"Depends if you're busy," I hear myself say.

He looks straight at me then, eyes almost accusing.

"You did get my message, didn't you?"

I nod.

He half turns away, shaking his head. "I had hoped that you hadn't been around because you'd found someone more suitable."

I feel myself getting angry. He sounds like my damn mother. What would he know about finding a suitable lover? Then I realise how unfair I'm being. He's just trying to help me, in his own way.

"I'm sorry," I say, immediately wondering what I'm apologising for. "Want to go for a drink?"

He looks back at the other man. Who's staring at us unashamedly.

"I'll see you around, Tony," he calls.

The man half raises his hand in acknowledgement.

 

I find myself smiling as we fall into step.

"Soâ€¦how've you been?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Fine. You?"

"Busy," I answer, truthfully.

We walk in silence until finally I can't hold it in any more.

"About last time," I blurt out, then pause.

He looks across at me, and I stumble over my words as I continue.

"I - I didn't meanâ€¦to hurt youâ€¦you were right, it was my first time andâ€¦now I know, well, I knowâ€¦I've done some research," I finish lamely.

He gives a quick half-smile, the sort that I would have missed if I'd blinked.

"I didn't mean my message to be rude in any way. And you didn't hurt me."

I know he's lying, but there's no anger in his voice, nothing to suggest he hates me as I thought he might. I suppose he's being a professional.

He indicates that I should choose where we go to drink, so I lead the way to a quiet bar I know.

I get us drinks and we sit in one of the booths. At first I'm not sure what to talk about, but we seem to manage small talk about sports, the weather and the city. We both drink fairly quickly anyway, and I find myself wondering if he gets to do things like this very often. He seems almost awkward like this, whereas when he was in my apartment, naked, he seemed quite at home.

When heâ€™s almost finished his drink I reach over and put my hand on his.

"Will you come back to mine?" I ask.

I deliberately chose a place to drink that wasnâ€™t far from my apartment.

He looks away, as if in contemplation.

"I can't stay long," he finally says.

I just nod, the same fear as before starting to build inside me. Except this time it's not because I'm afraid I won't enjoy it, it's because I'm desperate for him to.

 

We reach my place, and as soon as I shut the door I push him up against the wall and kiss him. He tastes of beer, his mouth soft and welcoming.

I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, but he pointedly takes my hands and rests them on his butt.

Then he pushes me toward the sofa, pulling off my shirt.

Every time I reach to try and pull off his clothing he gently guides my hands to rest on his body.

He plays the same tricks on me as last time--using his mouth on my nipples as he removes my pants, then pulls my hips to the edge of the sofa and kisses over my thighs, balls and dick. I'm rock hard in moments, and I tug on the shoulders of his tee shirt, trying to pull it off him so I can feel his smooth skin against my own.

He takes my hands and pins my wrists beside me on the sofa. Then he continues to lick and suck my aching cock until I'm a boneless wreck, lost in the pleasure he's giving me.

I don't even notice that he's stopped holding my hands down until I feel a new sensationâ€¦a cool slick finger pushing gently into my ass.

I clench up slightly, my body naturally reacting to the invasion, but the continuing waves of pleasure from his mouth make me relax again.

I can feel the fullness inside me, almost making me feel like I might cramp up. Every movement he makes seems magnified. And then suddenly there's the most amazing jolt of pleasure. I almost come. My body fights its two needs, making me squirm--I want to thrust upwards, into Mal's warm, wet mouth, and I need to get as much of him in me as possible to touch that sweet spot.

My hands tangle in his short dark hair as I hold his head and thrust wildly. He just takes it all in, fingers hitting the perfect place on every down stroke.

I come harder than I ever have before, watching through sated eyes as he swallows, my wet cock sliding easily between his lips.

After a moment he slips his finger out of me and I make a small noise of protest at the loss.

He looks as if he's about to stand up so I reach for his shirt and pull him toward me, so he's half lying on me. Then I wrap my legs around his waist so he can't get away from me. I reach between us to try and unbutton his shirt, but he stops me, hands firmly pushing me away.

"Not tonight, Trip."

"Aw, c'mon, I've had all the fun--both times."

He shakes his head. "Maybe another time."

"How about justâ€¦lyin' with me? See what happens?" I plead, not wanting him to leave yet. "I'll pay you extra," I say in desperation, reaching for my pants to get my wallet out, throwing over a hundred credits down.

He frowns, but climbs onto the sofa, where I gesture. I move until I'm lying on top of him, pinning his clothed body under my naked one.

I shift a little, trying to look at him, and he gasps in pain, instinctively pushing my weight away from the spot I hit.

"Mal?"

"It's nothing," he says, although he's still pushing my weight off himself.

"No it isn't." I move off him, sitting back. "What's up?"

He shifts away from me, sitting on the other end of the sofa.

"Iâ€™d better go."

I frown, reaching out for him. "Oh no you don't. I want to help. What's wrong with you? Canâ€™t you see I just want to help?"

He stands up, moving away from me. "No, it'sâ€¦it's inappropriate."

As he moves he has that same stiffness about him, and now I realise why. He's hurt.

"Let me see," I order, standing up.

He turns away.

"You only pay to use my body, Trip, you don't own it," he says, harshly.

I sigh, suddenly deflated by his words.

"I just want to help," I say softly. "The same as you helped me the night we met."

He turns back around at that and looks at me. He looks lost and totally miserable.

"Please?" I say, holding out my hand to him.

He finally gives in and approaches me. I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom, flicking the light on as I go.

I stand him still and pull up his t-shirt, looking him in the eye. He immediately drops his gaze, looking totally wretched.

As I pull the fabric up I expose his body.

"Jesus, Mal," I gasp. "What happened?"

There are a number of large bruises dark against his skin, and a cut from his chest diagonally down across his stomach.

"Someone wanted something I had," he says quietly.

"Let me get some ointment."

I walk quickly to the bathroom. I know I've got some stuff in here. I get enough cuts and scrapes doing my job to keep some all-purpose medical supplies around the place.

"Why didn't you go and see a doctor?" I call.

"It's not that bad," he says, softly.

"It don't look too good from here. I can drive you down to the med-centre if you'd like," I offer.

"No - really, I'm fine," he answers, a little too quickly.

"Take your top off," I say, needing to see if he's hurt anywhere else.

He grips it where it's bunched under his chin and awkwardly takes it off, obviously pulling abused muscles.

I take it and lay it carefully on the bed, then turn back to him. On his back there's a clearly visible imprint of someone's boot. I wince.

"What did they want?" I ask, as I begin rubbing the cool cream onto his skin.

He hisses slightly at my touch, and I guess the antiseptic in the ointment is probably stinging the abrasions.

"Just my money, for once," he answers.

"For once?" I query, wondering what else he'd have that they could want usually.

"It's more often my body," he says, blandly.

The implication scares me. I want to take care of him, tell him to stop it, tell him I love him and that he can't keep doing what he's doing, because he deserves more. So I bite my tongue.

"Did you lose much?" I ask, feigning the same detachment he has.

Mal gives a little laugh, and the first genuine smile of the night passes over his face. "No, I didn't. One of them lost consciousness, and the other a few teeth."

At first I think he's joking, but I quickly realise he's serious.

"There were two of them?" I say, incredulously.

He nods. "They were drunk, mind."

"And you fought them?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.

"I do have the benefit of some martial arts training," he says, as if somehow that's cheating.

I'm not surprised. His body's all muscle, and despite the fact he's small there's a lot of strength in him.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're not going back out there tonight, are you?" I ask, worried for him.

He turns and reaches for his shirt, not answering me.

"You knowâ€¦you know you can always call on me, if you ever need anything, don't you?" I say, realising how stupid that sounds as soon as I say it.

He gives a lopsided half-smile. "I'll keep it in mind."

And I know he'll never be taking me up on my offer.

 

Once he's ready to go he looks up to me, then quickly walks towards me. His hand cups my cheek and fingers slide across the back of my neck. He kisses me on the cheek.

"Thank you," he whispers, then leaves whilst I'm still standing there, mouth hanging open.

 

I don't know how long I stay like that, but when I finally move I have no idea what to do with myself. My hand is still slightly greasy from the ointment, and I can feel on my cheek where his lips touched my skin.

The kiss has totally thrown me. I wander into the sitting room to get my clothes. They're strewn around the room, so I gather them and finally sink down onto the sofa.

Then I notice that the money's gone. Or at least, he's taken seventy. That takes some of the shine off the kiss. I really felt like we had a link there for a few seconds - something personal, not business. But now he's taken the pay. It was just another transaction to him.

I don't know why I'm trying to convince myself it's anything but. He obviously needs the money. There can't be any other reason why he's doing this.

 

I'm busy for the next few nights; a friend's birthday and some work-related meetings conspiring to take up my evenings. I'm on the way back from one of the meetings in my car, thinking about Mal, so I decide to cruise by and see if he's around.

I've been thinking about him a lot, and I now catch myself looking at other men, seeing if they measure up. None of them have. I don't feel anything for them.

When I pull the car up I see him leaning against the wall. He looks across, so I flash my headlights.

He moves away from the wall gracefully and jumps the railings. I smile, as it's obvious he's feeling a lot better.

I hit the button to wind down the passenger window and he leans in.

"Watcha after, mate?" he asks, then looks me in the eye. "Oh, it's you."

I grin, "Well, hello to you too."

"Sorry, I'm not used to you in a motor."

I notice his accent isn't nearly asâ€¦well, refined as it normally is.

"You free?" I ask.

He nods slowly.

"Get in then." I say, then quickly add, "If you want?"

He climbs in the car and I look him over. He's wearing soft leather jeans and a black singlet. He looks stunning.

"Hey, you want some dinner? I'm buying?" I offer, realising I'm hungry.

He looks at me and smiles. "You definitely need a man."

I shrug, "I'm okay I as I am."

"That's why you spend your evenings picking up trade?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Not trade - just you," I correct. I don't want him thinking I do this with just anyone.

"In case it's escaped your notice, I am a rent-boy, a whore, a hooker, whatever. I am not an escort, and I'm definitely not a boyfriend. I think you need to understand that.â€

I stop the car, turning to look at him. "I know, I know that," I insist.

Except I'm afraid he's just put his finger on exactly my problem. I've somehow made up this world where we're friends, and I keep trying to convince myself that's true. I just didn't know he'd notice so quickly.

Then again, his signals aren't exactly the clearest at the moment either. He seems to be implying this is all my fault, and that's just not fair.

"But how am I supposed to 'understand' when one minute I get a freebie, then you kiss me, like you really mean it, but you take the money. What kind of fucked up signals are they?"

He looks out of the windshield, into the distance, thinking, I guess.

He's sitting so still that when he moves I jump.

He just gets out of the car and starts walking back down the road, the way we came.

I jump out and stare after him. "Mal? Mal!" I shout.

He turns around, but walks backwards, still moving away. "No, I'm sorry, this was a mistake; this was all a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. Mal! Pleaseâ€¦"

But he's gone, and I'm left standing in the middle of the road, passing cars honking their horns at me.

Shit.

 

I spend the evening pacing my flat, thinking about what I'm doing with my life. What I've done.

In the end it takes me two days of wandering around in a daze, only half interacting with the world around me to decide what I should do.

And then, just when I think I've sorted things out in my head, the Gods, or whoever it is that controls these things, intervene. My plan falls apart.

 

I run to Mal's spot - not out running, that became an excuse weeks ago. Now I just run to his spot, to see him.

When I arrive he's not there, so I sit down and wait. Every time I hear a car approaching I pray it will be him, but after I've been there for over an hour there's still no sign of him.

I recognise the same guy Mal was speaking to that one night. Tony, I think Mal called him, so walk toward him as he walks away from the car he's been in.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I say, feeling ridiculous. "I'm looking for Mal."

He looks me up and down. "He ainâ€™t workin' tonight. I'll do you though - his prices."

I shake my head, frustrated. "No, I really need to find him, notâ€¦not for business, I need to talk to him."

The man shrugs, obviously not caring. "What's it worth?"

"What?" I ask, knowing I sound shocked.

"Credits. Twenty'll buy you his address."

I fumble in my pocket and pull out the money. He gives me the address, directions and the flat number.

I could run the distance easily, but I don't. Now I've had time to think about it I'm nervous; I've crossed a line. I'm about to see him, on his ground and I want to be prepared, mentally. The walk gives me time to think - time to rehearse my lines.

 

I hit the door link and the screen fuzzes, obviously out of order. I push on the heavy door and to my surprise it swings open.

I pick my way through the rubbish that is strewn around in the corridors. I'm surprised the building hasn't been demolished already, the walls have large cracks through the graffiti and stains and the floor is uneven. The whole place deserves to be condemned.

I start climbing the stairs, not quite trusting that the lift would get me up to his floor.

I reach what I think is the right landing, although all of the signs have been vandalised, and I walk along the corridor. The number is painted neatly on his door, so I take a deep breath and knock.

Nothing happens. I start to wonder if he's out. Then I wonder if this is even the right address - I was eager to believe anything that I thought would get me closer to Mal.

Then there's a noise - the locks on the other side of the door being disabled. My whole body tenses.

The door swings open and my carefully prepared speech is immediately forgotten.

"Holy shit," I breathe as I look him up and down.

He has on a pair of faded and ripped jeans and a well-worn shirt. One bandaged arm and hand is held defensively across his body. His face is cut and bruised.

"What are you doing here?" his speech is made thick by his swollen split lips.

"Iâ€¦neededâ€¦needâ€¦to talk to you."

He sighs and stands back to let me enter.

The tiny apartment is almost empty. A desk sits under the window, there are books open on it and two mugs. I guess that's where he was sitting before I interrupted him.

At one side of the room there's a bed, and although it's neatly made I can see someone's been lying on it, the other wall has a worktop with a small cooker and a sink.

An open door affords me a glance into what must be a tiny bathroom.

I'm brought back to the present by the sound of the door shutting.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning back on the door.

"Oh, I, erâ€¦Iâ€¦what happened to you, Mal?" I reach out to him, but he shrinks away, walking around me and sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

"It's nothing. How did you find me?"

I look around the room before walking to the desk and spinning the chair around so I can sit on it. I try to look into his eyes, but he carefully avoids my gaze.

"I wanted to find you, so I asked one of the otherâ€¦"

He nods. "As you can see, I'm not up to much. Could probably blow you, if you want."

Even the thought of it somehow repulses me. I hate that he thinks that's all I'm here for. And I hate him for offering, because I know that other people would probably take him up on it, even if they could see that he was hurt.

"No, no, I don't want that. Have you been to the med-centre?" I ask, looking at the semi-neat bandaging. He's obviously had some medical help this time, thank God.

"Health centre," he answers.

Health centres are notorious places. They're not regulated, like med-centres are, but they're cheap, and if you don't have medical insurance, or don't want anyone official to know what's happened to you, that's where you go. They often employ medical staff who can't get a job anywhere else. Doctor's who've been struck off, that kind of thing.

"What did they say?" I ask, wondering what the bits of him I can't see look like.

He shrugs. "I'll live."

"You should see a proper doctor, you know," I say, and regret it as soon as his angry gaze hits me.

"I'm fine. It's not a big deal," he snaps.

"Not aâ€¦Mal! Look at yourself! No-one deserves to be hurt, whatever you do."

He shakes his head. "I'm aware of that," he says icily. "But there we go, it happened, I'm over it. Now, what do you want?"

I pause, not knowing how to say it.

"I'm going away," I start.

He nods.

"I mean, I'm going for good."

He nods again, as if waiting for the revelation.

And it starts to dawn on me, what should have been obvious all along. He doesn't care. I've read so much into our encounters, but why would he care? Why would he care about some sad lonely guy who can't sort his life out and falls for a whore? He'll probably be glad to get shot of me.

I blurt the rest out, not knowing how else to do it, but I have to say what I came here to, or I'll hate myself for the rest of my life.

"I want you to come with me. Don't stay here and do this. Come and live with me, we can work it out. I can't bear to think of you still here. You're intelligent, you can do better."

He just looks at me, waiting for me to finish.

When he finally speaks it's in an even tone, no emotion.

"I'm touched that you would ask me to accompany you - although you haven't exactly given me much detail. And I'm touched to know you care. But it is rather short-sighted of you to imagine that I don't have plans of my own to fulfil. I'm sorry, but I'll have to say no."

It wasn't exactly the knock-back I'd been expecting.

I stare at the floor, trying to think of any arguments to use against him. But there aren't any.

Finally I sigh, "I really thought you might say 'yes'."

He smiles. "If it's of any consolation I can assure you that had I not had slightlyâ€¦granderâ€¦plans than remaining on the game for the rest of my life, I might have been tempted."

He looks into my eyes and I know I've just lost the only man I've ever loved. There's a touch of regret in his grey depths, or at least, I think there is, but there's also resolve.

I stand and walk across his room, looking back at him when I reach the door.

He's sitting with his arm wrapped around his body, one leg tucked under himself. His face is turned to me, no expression visible under the bruises, just watching me leave.

**********************************************************

That's kind of how I remember him, sometimes. Other times I remember how his lips or stubble felt when they brushed my skin, or sometimes his smell. But as the years pass my memories fade. They're clearest when I dream, but I can never hang on to my dreams into waking hours. The images and feelings they evoke slip through my fingers like sand, and the harder I concentrate on trying to remember the more elusive they become. In the end I'm not even remembering him; I'm remembering what I wanted him to be.

I've been with a few men since, but never for more than one night, and only when a woman just won't satisfy the need inside me.

I try not to have much time to think about anything other than work for most of the time, to be honest. I throw myself into having a social life, but even the downtime is inevitably spent with people I work with or people I sleep with for one night and hope never to see again.

Memories of him still ambush me occasionally. Normally when I'm trying to get to sleep at night, or I'm working on my own. Sometimes I cherish them, other times I brush them aside, angry with myself for being such a fool.

I try to avoid R&R, or at least, I try to plan things to keep myself busy when I have time off work. So when I'm ordered to take some just as the project is really getting exciting I resent it. I've been burying myself in my work so I don't have to face anything else.

The Warp Five engine is being fitted to a brand-new NX class starship, the 'Enterprise'. I'm her Chief Engineer, which is why I definitely shouldn't be on R&R at such an important time, although when I point that out command just laugh and assure me there are plenty of people as qualified as I am - which isn't strictly true.

Weâ€™re not too far from the launch of our first mission, and we've been working flat out. Just recently people have been taking their last leave - a chance to say goodbye to their folks for a while.

Obviously I want to see my family, but I also want to see that my engine is treated as she should be.

 

I finally head back to Earth from the space dock, and one of my first thoughts as we head for San Francisco is to try and find Mal.

I tried once before, when I found myself in the city with a few days to spare. That was about 6 or so years ago now. There was no record of him that I could find, but hell, I don't even know if Mal was his real name - and even if it was, that's hardly much to go on.

In the end I decide against even trying. It's been ten years. And anyway, I don't need to fuel my obsession further - especially as I'm about to embark on a deep-space mission that could last for years.

 

Jon calls me most days I'm planetside, keeping me updated. He's busy trying to crew the ship, as Starfleet told him he could have the pick of any personnel he wanted. He tells me about some of the interviews, funny stories or surprising things. I know he's having a hard time choosing people to fill some positions.

I go home to Florida and get pampered by my folks. My last night on Earth is celebrated by the whole Tucker clan turning up, and we party well into the night.

Then, after the brief interlude it's back to work. On my first day back on the station Jon comes by to take me to breakfast. I badger him for updates from engineering before finally we both get back to Enterprise.

Halfway there Jon suddenly slaps a hand on my back.

"Trip, I forgot to mention, you're not the only head of department anymore. New officer moved in, he's head of armoury, tactical and security. Got here yesterday. Come and meet him, I'll introduce you."

I frown slightly. One man as head of three departments - albeit they are closely linked. And security as one of them. He's bound to be some muscle-bound moron with a skull thicker than Enterprise's hull plating. I give Jon a weak smile. If I end up having to share my resources with some knuckle-headed moron for five years I won't be happy.

Jon drags me into the armoury, and since I left it's been filled with tools and equipment. He may only have been here a day, but he's certainly marked his territory. I envisage him as being like a rottweiler and wonder if heâ€™s pissed against the wall yet.

"Lieutenant," Jon calls, looking around for his errant guard dog.

"Captain?" a voice calls, and I can't help but think it sounds vaguely familiar.

Jon heads towards the sound and as I follow him I see a dark haired man extricating himself from the weapons housing, where he's obviously been working.

He straightens up, smoothing his uniform down, then lifts his head to look toward us.

My heart stops dead as his grey-blue gaze comes to rest on me. He shows no flicker of recognition.

"Trip - Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Malcolm - Commander Trip Tucker."

He looks me straight in the eye and snaps to attention.

"Commander," he says, in his slightly husky British accent.

"Iâ€¦erâ€¦erâ€¦at ease, Lieutenant," I finally manage.

He relaxes into a perfect 'at-ease' stance, although I'm not sure 'relaxes' is the word.

"Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to it," Jon smiles. "I'm sure you'll be getting to know each other very well in the next few weeks. See you for lunch, Trip. I want to update you on some of the other ship's business."

Jon turns and leaves, but I can't take my eyes off the vision in front of me.

I realise that now Jon's gone a small smile is tugging at Mal's lips. The first sign of recognition he's given.

I can't get any words out, I just continue to gape. Jon said 'Lieutenant'. He's standing in front of me, on my ship, in Starfleet uniform. He's an officer, on Enterprise. I can't believe it can be him. I can't equate the man I left in the tiny apartment in the backstreets of San Francisco with the officer now standing in front of me.

Finally he breaks the silence.

"You look a little surprised to see me, sir," he says, calm as you like.

"I thinkâ€¦howâ€¦what are you doing here?" I finally stutter.

He shrugs and looks around. "Just trying to fix the firing mechanism."

I laugh and shake my head, knowing he's teasing me. "You know what I mean."

"As I told you last time we spoke, I had plans a little beyond working the streets for the rest of my life."

I look up at him. "You don't seem surprised to see me," I observe.

He smiles the same sexy half-smile that he used to and raises his gaze to look directly into my eyes. "I knew you were in Starfleet. I'd always wondered if one day our paths would cross again. And your name is pretty synonymous with Enterprise's."

He breaks eye contact again and glances ruefully at the circuits for the firing mechanism that I can now see spread about inside the tube he was working in.

"However, right now I must continue to establish a relationship with this damned thing."

I nod silently, still trying to comprehend that the love of my life is standing a few feet from me, talking about mechanics, when we've been apart for ten years.

He smiles indulgently. "We'll have to catch up later - when we're both off duty."

And I immediately curse the fact Jon's booked me for lunch.

"Er, tonight, you doing anything tonight? I mean, do you want to get something to eat?" I can hear the eagerness in my own voice.

"That would be fine," he smiles.

"I'll come by and pick you up. Where are you staying?" I ask, my smile threatening to take over my whole face.

"My quarters are on E deck. I believe I'm the only one who has moved in, so I'm sure you'll find me."

I nod, deciding I should hurry up and move my things onboard too, instead of living on the station.

"I'll come by and find you. About twenty hundred hours?"

He nods.

"Andâ€¦I'll see youâ€¦around," I say, not quite sure what the appropriate behaviour is when you've just got a date with your one true love after waiting ten years.

He nods, "Yes, sir."

I take the sudden formality to mean that we're back on working terms for now.

We still see each other a fair bit, whilst everyone's working and power supplies are being fought over as well as technical questions being fired back and forth. I manage to run most errands to the armoury myself, despite the fact I could easily send a junior. I know I'm being silly, but it's almost like I want to check he's still there. I couldn't bear to lose him again.

Anyway, Mal's alone in the armoury most of the time, only the odd member of crew in there with him, so I figure it's better for his safety if someone checks on him regularly. Or at least, that would be my excuse if anyone ever thought to ask.

 

At lunch Jon calls me on the comm and we go onto the station to eat. He asks how Mal and I are getting along, so I form some semi-coherent answer that doesn't tell him anything.

"You two are all right, aren't you?" he asks, his brow furrowed. "You know you're going to have to work together pretty closely sometimes."

I swallow the food in my mouth. He has no idea just how closely I'd like to work with a certain dark haired Englishman.

"We're fine," I answer, and smile in what I hope is a reassuring way.

"I wasn't sure if I should take him on or not," Jon muses.

"Yeah? Why?" I ask, immediately interested.

"He came very highly recommended," Jon pauses, as if thinking.

"So?" I ask, impatient.

"Five years ago he was made up to lieutenant."

I nod, assuming that Mal must be overdue a promotion now.

"Four years ago he was busted back to ensign."

"What? Why?" from what I've seen Mal's a model officer, I can't imagine why he'd have been busted.

"That's the thing, it doesn't really say on his record, and no one will tell me anything. He accepted the demotion without appeal."

"Can't you just ask him?"

"I don't want him to feel that I'm prying, or that I'll somehow hold it against him. He was re-promoted, and his service record is otherwise excellent. He'd probably rather just forget about it, and be happy to let it be a part of his past."

I nod. I've got a lot of catching up to do with Mal.

 

By the time I'm walking to his cabin in the evening I've got a thousand questions buzzing around my head. I ring the door chime on the one cabin that has its door closed and wait. Then wait some more. After a few more tries I head for the nearest comm point.

"Tucker to Reed."

"Reed here, sorry sir, I had no idea of the time. I'll be with you as soon as possible."

I spend an interesting few minutes examining the walls of the corridor before the turbolift doors hiss open at the end of the corridor.

Mal steps out, looking distinctly more dishevelled than he did when I first saw him. His hands and arms are greasy, and although he's wiping them on a rag he's really not getting any cleaner. His uniform already has handprints down it and dark oil covers one side down his hip and thigh.

His hair is falling in his face slightly, completing the overall air of someone who's been hard at work. He smiles widely at me.

Once he reaches his door he examines his hands and chooses the cleanest finger to punch in his door code.

"Please, sir, come in. I'm afraid I'll have to delay us further by having a shower, so take a seat."

"Mal, we're off duty, you can drop the 'Sir'," I say.

"Of course," he says in a tone of voice that tells me he doesn't quite agree.

He pulls a towel from his locker and heads for the small bathroom.

"I won't be long," he calls over his shoulder.

I listen as water cascades into the small shower stall and try not to imagine soapy hands sliding over his smooth skin.

He sticks to his word though, and less than five minutes later he steps back into the room, a towel slung around his hips, droplets of water running from his hair down his chest and back. I can see the silver-white lines of scars on his body, and I wonder for a moment if any of them are from whatever happened to him before the last time I saw him.

"I suppose if there's one person on board who I shouldn't worry about modesty with, it's you," he smiles and begins to dry himself in front of me.

I just watch as he dries, then picks some clothes from his locker. His body's more muscular than it was last time I saw him. He's lost all the traces of being a gangly teenager that carry over into the twenties and his shoulders and chest have filled out. I guess that as a security officer he must be responsible for a lot of training too. He's probably one of the fittest people on board.

He pulls on a pair of Starfleet issue boxers, then some light coloured pants and a shirt.

I stand and lead the way to one of the more commercial areas of the station and we get a table in one of the smaller establishments. It beats eating in some Starfleet run mess hall. The dim lighting highlights his bone structure, and although I can see he's tired he looks gorgeous.

"Soâ€¦how've you been?" I ask, not the most original question, but a pretty good opening gambit I figure.

"Had my ups and downs," he smiles.

I immediately think of what Jon told me at lunchtime, but I don't ask - yet. It wouldn't do to make him think his superior officers spent their lunchtimes prying into his life.

"You've obviously done well," he smiles, "I believe you were a lieutenant last time we met."

"How do you know that?" I ask, incredulously. I thought I was as mysterious as he was back then.

"You had a wardrobe full of uniforms in your apartment," he points out.

"Oh."

Well, I suppose he wouldn't be much good at his job if he wasn't observant.

"Soâ€¦you've obviously come a long way too," I say, vaguely.

He nods. "I did always wonder if we'd meet again, and what you'd think," he admits.

"Youâ€¦what were you doing then, then? I mean, when you said you had plans, Iâ€¦I don't know, I never imagined you meant something like this."

He smiles, and his fork suddenly becomes very interesting as he fiddles with it before answering.

"I wasn't a rent-boy who suddenly decided to strive for greater things in life. I'd always wanted to join Starfleet, it was my dream, since I saw the first news broadcasts on the telly."

"So what happened?" I ask, openly curious now.

"I knew I needed to go to university, so I applied, and got inâ€¦" he pauses, as if thinking. "But when it came to it I couldn't afford to go." He looks into my eyes, and I can see even now the pain in his expression.

"What about your family? Couldn't they help out?" I ask, knowing that my folks did everything they could to make my education as comfortable as they could for me.

"They didn'tâ€¦don'tâ€¦exactly approve. The only way I was going to afford to take the place on the course was to work. I tried everything I could think of, but there weren't enough hours in the day for me to work for the sort of wages that most students worked for and make a living as well as doing my coursework. I tried, but I was working instead of sleeping - my studies suffered."

I nod, and realise how badly I'd underestimated him before. I mean, I realised he was clever enough to be doing something with his life other than selling his body, but I had no idea. I remember the small desk in his room, and the books that had been strewn across it. All the time I wasâ€¦using him, he should have been out partying, doing the things everyone else gets to do when they're a student.

"What's up with your parents? Seems to me they should be proud of you. I mean, look at you, you're an officer," I smile.

"I'm afraid they don't know I am an officer, actually. I did tell my mother I had joined Starfleet, but I'm not sure she would have passed on the news."

I shake my head, wondering how anyone could just cut him out of their life by choice. "What don't they approve of though? I don't get it."

"Me, Trip. They don't approve of me," he says, bleakly.

"Butâ€¦" I don't know what to say, except tell him he must be wrong, that they'd be mad not to love him, support him.

"They don't approve of my choices, my career, my hopes, my dreams, my preferencesâ€¦my sexuality."

I nod, although I can't imagine what that would be like.

"What did they want you to do?" I ask, assuming that if they were so disapproving of his choices, then they must have had his life pretty planned out for him.

"My father was in the navy. It was always assumed that I would join up, but I didn't want to. They paid for me to go to Royal Naval Training College, but I dropped out after one term. I hated it, but my father put that down to weakness - not being 'man enough' to cope with the discipline."

"You wanted Starfleet badly enough to go through all that?" I say, incredulous. I almost feel like a fraud for having it so easy.

He just nods.

"Didn't you think you were risking a lot? I mean, what if you'd met up with meâ€¦or someone else, during training?"

The drinks waiter brings over the bottle of wine Mal chose, so the answer to my question has to wait.

Finally we're alone again and Mal toys with his glass, rolling the stem between his fingers.

"You seemedâ€¦different. I thought that maybe, if we'd met under different circumstances, we could have been friends." He casts his eyes down. "You seemed to genuinely like me," he says in a soft voice.

It makes me want to take him in my arms and hug him. I get the impression he's got this far in life without much love or affection from anyone.

 

We order our food and eat, the conversation mainly kept on the relatively safe topic of Enterprise, although we both talk about other ships we've served on too. I wonder if he'll volunteer any information about his demotion, but don't want to push the issue.

Then a thought strikes me.

"If you were in Starfleet all this time, why couldn't I find you when I tried?" I ask.

He looks surprised.

"You tried to find me? When you only knew a shortened version of my full name?" he smiles a genuine smile, although whether he's laughing at my folly, or touched by my optimism, I don't know.

I shrug, trying to make it seem like it was what everyone would have done.

"I just searched the city records for anyone whose first name could be shortened to Malâ€¦" I trail off, realising how silly that sounds.

"Well, you know what Starfleet are like, they're not the most organised of people, are they?" he says, not meeting my eyes.

"I've never known them to completely lose a person though," I say. "And I would have found you. I looked at every file. The pictures too."

I hope he doesn't realise just how ridiculously desperate I was on the night that I spent alone in my quarters doing just that, staring at every record of every male citizen with the first initial 'M' in the area, including Starfleet personnel.

"It was about five or six years ago. What ship were you serving on? Or where you in R&D?"

"I wasn't on a ship."

I wait for him to expand, but he doesn't.

"You were based on Earth? Or where you on one of the stations?" I press on.

"Kind of."

This could get old very fast, I decide.

"Kind of what?"

He sighs and gives in. "I was with the SSF."

I nod slowly. Starfleet Special Forces. They're a scary bunch, the best of the best, Starfleet's only nod toward being a military organisation. They were originally set up to safeguard Starfleet's secrets, but there've been rumours linking them to all sorts of work, on Earth and other planets, always very hush-hush. He must have seen some heavy action. And no one who works for the SSF is officially listed in the personnel record whilst they're active.

"Well, that'd explain it. Not many people get through the training for SSF."

He gives a little huff of a laugh.

"No. It wasâ€¦challenging," he admits.

"And from there you went into armoury and tactical?" I ask.

"I haveâ€¦certain skills which lend themselves to these areas, yes."

And I'll just bet he does. SSF use the most advanced technology. I wouldn't want to get in their way.

"You've certainly packed a lot into ten years," I say.

He looks up at me, eyes sparkling, and smiles. I almost melt.

"At least you now know why I couldn't take you up on your offer," he says, sounding almost shy.

"Always knew I'd get a reason one day, I just didn't expect it to take ten years," I smile back.

"I was tempted, you know," he says softly.

I feel my eyes widen. Hope flares in my heart - hope and sorrow. Hope for the future, and sorrow that I didn't push harder ten years ago. I immediately dismiss the latter as being unfair though. He wouldn't be where he is now if he'd come with me. We wouldn't be here, about to embark on humanity's first deep-space mission together.

"You didn't show it," I finally say.

"I couldn't. If I'd have let you see even for a second how much I wanted to accept your offer you would have pushed me. And I rather think I would have given in."

"You were that close to accepting?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice.

"That nightâ€¦yes, I was."

And the image of how I left him comes back to me. Him sitting, huddled up on himself, battered and bruised.

"What happened?" I ask gently.

"Nothing," he answers, a bit too quickly. "I just took a bit of a beating."

 

I try to question him further, but he's not exactly forthcoming. We make polite discussion before arguing over who'll pay the bill and leaving.

I invite him back to mine, but he declines. I'm upset, but I understand when he says he just wants to take things slowly. And I know I'll see him the next day, it's just not the same when we're in uniform.

 

By the time I arrive on shift the next morning Mal's already in the armoury. I know he's on the same shift pattern as me, so he must be putting in extra hours. When I ask some of the station staff who've been working for a couple of hours already they tell me he was in before they started, so I'm guessing he must have been here before six a.m.

I wander into the armoury to see how he's getting on and watch him work.

Whatever he does he puts one hundred per cent concentration into, it seems. I can see why he would come highly recommended to Jon, but I still can't imagine what he could have done to get himself a demotion.

Right now he's working on one of the launch shafts. They'll eventually be used to drop off communication buoys and launch torpedoes, but right now they're still under construction. Or at leastâ€¦I'm sure I was told they'd been finished. But apparently not.

"Mornin'," I call.

He looks up at me and smiles. "Good morning."

"What are you up to?" I ask.

"The launching system is lagging, and some of these relays haven't been fitted correctly."

"It's running slow?" I walk over to the access panel he's working on.

"Not according to the specs that Starfleet provided, but I know for a fact we could get at least ten percent better efficiency out of them."

I nod slowly. I'm learning about Malcolm Reed - again. He's not the kind of man who's going to settle until he's done the absolute best he can.

"You doing anything for lunch?" I ask.

"I'm afraid so," he answers, "I'm on a half day today."

"Oh?"

"I have a prior engagement." He looks at me, as if trying to judge me, decide whether to tell me or not.

After a respectable pause I sigh. "And you ain't going to tell me."

He smiles and gives in. "It's a competition, Shi-Dakahn. It's a martial art. The competition is being held on the station."

"Really? Can I watch?" I say, unable to hide my eagerness.

He lowers his head. "I believe you're on duty, commander."

"Not if I can help it. Surely you need someone to cheer you on?"

He smiles at me, about to answer, when a voice calls out to us both and I see Jon walking toward us.

"Cap'n," I smile. "I was just talking to the lieutenant. You know about the competition this afternoon?"

Archer nods. "Of course, Malcolm spoke to me about it to arrange time off."

"Well we've got to go and watch, Cap'n," I plead. "Show some support for our crew."

Jon looks amused, and I worry that I've laid it on a bit thick.

"You think, Trip?"

Mal looks worried, "Really, sir, that's quite unnecessary."

"Actually, Malcolm, I've already got us a couple of seats, if you don't mind an audience."

Jon smiles at me and I grin back. I really want to show Mal some support.

"So, Shi - whatever it's called, what's it about?" I ask, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jon.

Mal gives a tiny smile.

"Shi-Dakahn is a form of combat that uses both empty-hand and weapons techniques."

"And it's a competition? What for?" I ask.

"The competition has been going on for some months. It's an inter-forces tournament. This is the final. Each branch of the forces has hosted a certain number of rounds. As this is Starfleet's first year competing we are to hold the finals. And someone at command thought it a good idea to hold it up here, not on Earth."

"Great. I can't wait. I used to love going to the boxing with my Daddy when I was a boy," I smile.

Jon laughs, then he begins to walk away, asking me a question about something on the bridge, so I have to follow.

As I leave I see that Mal's working again, and I smile at the thought of getting to know another facet of Malcolm Reed.

 

Jon collects me that afternoon and we walk to the competition venue together. I know that Mal left earlier, to meet his coach and prepare.

When we arrive in the large gymnasium it's already pretty full. We squeeze our way to the seats. They're a few rows back from the mats, but still close. I wonder how much rank Jon had to pull to get them at such short notice.

The seating tiers rise up from the mats, creating a bowl effect. The atmosphere's almost oppressive, with hundreds of people packed in the area. I can see areas of the crowd defined by the different uniforms the spectators wear and the noise of everyone speaking excitedly swells and roars as the crowds build.

On all four walls large electronic screens show information on the programme of events. Mal's obviously a star-player, as his fight seems to have top billing.

We sit and watch the first few fights and both Jon and I are left speechless by the skill and power each fighter displays.

As each category is fought and won every battle seems more amazing than the last.

And as I watch I can feel a knot of worry growing in the pit of my stomach.

More than a few of the competitors are suffering injuries from the fights, and there seem to be people employed purely to wipe the blood from the mats after each round has been fought.

I lean over to Jon.

"So, have you given Mal the day off tomorrow?" I ask.

Jon shakes his head slowly. "No. And I can't afford to lose him for a day either."

"Why didn't you tell them we couldn't spare Mal?"

I'm beginning to wish he had refused to let Mal attend; I don't want to see him get hurt.

"It wasn't up to me, Trip," Jon whispers. "Malcolm's been one of Starfleet's stars in hand to hand combat and the Admiralty weren't about to let him go without bagging them this last trophy."

"Even if he could get hurt?" I can't help but let some of the worry show in my voice.

Jon looks at me, and he's clearly amused.

"He's done it before, Trip, many times," he says, as if talking to a child.

I settle in my seat, trying to look as if I'm not sulking.

I'm still nervous.

 

About half an hour later it's finally Mal that walks onto the mat. He looks stunning. He has a tight black top on with the Starfleet logo on his chest and some black heavy cotton trousers. One of his hands is wrapped in black tape, and a tight black bandana is around his head. He looks dangerous.

His opponent is a far larger man. More stockily built. I shift in my seat, moving to get a better look.

"He's gonna get killed," I breathe, almost to myself.

"Don't underestimate him, Trip," Jon says quietly.

And I know I shouldn't. He wasn't bragging when he said he'd fought those people off, and that was ten years ago. If he fights for Starfleet he must be good.

The two of them perform a complex bowing movement, then retreat behind taped lines on the mat.

They are each handed a black bag, about four feet long and very slim.

I look at Jon. This hasn't happened in any of the previous fights. Jon shrugs.

The two men remove the bags with a flourish, revealing dull shining weapons. They're like short staffs, metal, I think. They look weighty as both men prepare to fight by hefting them into position.

The referee makes a hand signal and calls something out. Both men immediately move.

They circle each other warily, like animals. I'm on the edge of my seat, hands clenched. The fear inside me is like nothing I've ever felt before.

Then Mal makes the first real attacking move. He performs a series of rapid spinning kicks, three of them connecting with the head of his opponent who staggers backward under the onslaught.

Then the fight starts in earnest. I wince as hands feet and metal hit flesh. Some of the noises are truly sickening. Both men grunt as the blows rain down.

"How come they get weapons?" I finally say as a particularly vicious blow gets Mal in the face.

The man on the other side of Jon leans toward me.

"They're the only Do-Shi here," he says, as if that explains it all.

"Do-Shi?" I ask, looking at Jon, to see if Mal explained any of this to him.

"It means 'Master'" the man says helpfully. "They both hold the highest grade you can. That's why they're top billing in the competition."

Somehow it doesn't surprise me that Mal is the best.

"But if it's just a competitionâ€¦how come they're hurting each other?"

The man laughs. "This is about more than the medals, at least for those two. This goes back years."

I remember how Mal looked the day I last saw him in San Francisco and anger bubbles up inside of me. I could be looking at the man who did that to Mal.

"You mean they've done this before?" I ask.

The man shakes his head. "You don't know this game at all, do you?" he says, then won't say another word.

I watch in silence as the two men in front of us try to kill each other. I just can't understand why anyone would want to do what they're doing. I want to jump up and stop the madness. I can see Mal's hurtingâ€¦both of them are. Their movements have slowed, both are visibly panting.

This fight is lasting far longer than the others - the crowd is baying for blood. I sense Jon shifting in his seat next to me. He's clearly almost as uncomfortable as I am.

 

Eventually, after five bloody rounds, the fight is stopped. It's declared a draw, neither man showing a clear advantage.

They bow to each other at the end and Mal Looks upset as he's led away from the ring.

The crowd aren't happy. It seems most people think the fight should have carried on until one of them won. Probably by a knockout, the way it was looking.

Jon and I try to get back to the changing rooms to check on Mal, but we're refused entry. Jon tries to exert some senior-officer pressure, but it doesn't work.

We're forced to retreat back to Enterprise and wait it out in the end.

Every fibre of my being wants to be with Mal, so I try and comm him every quarter of an hour, waiting for him to return.

After about two hours there's still no reply. I walk to his quarters and try the door. He doesn't answer, so I'm just about to walk away when I notice some small red smears on the keypad. It's blood.

I hammer on the door before finally reverting to my engineering background and pulling the control panel off the wall. A few seconds later I've hotwired the electrics and the door slides open.

I hear the shower running - and suddenly hope that I haven't just overreacted monumentally and broken into Mal's cabin when he was just having a wash.

The door to the tiny bathroom is open, so I cautiously approach it.

"Mal? Mal, are you all right?" I call out, tentatively.

The sound of falling water is all that answers me.

I take a few steps forward and look into the room. Through the frosted glass I can see a figure on the floor of the shower.

I pull the door open and see Mal, he's hugging his knees, head resting on his arms.

The water is cascading down on him, and as I hunker down next to him I realise it's running cold.

"Mal?"

I reach to turn the water off, then grab a towel from the rail.

"You must be freezing," I murmur, not sure if he can hear me or not.

As I wrap the towel around his shoulders he looks up at me. His eyes are glazed and he looks groggy.

"Trip?"

He sounds confused.

"What are you doing here?"

I reach out and push his wet hair from his forehead.

"Just came to see how you were doing."

I notice a trail of diluted blood is running down one side of his face and he looks battered and bruised. His lower lip is swollen, and I wonder if that's why he sounds slurred.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here, into something warm. Otherwise you'll freeze to death."

I gently help him up, aware that he's probably hurting elsewhere too. I suck in a breath as I see bands of bruising across his body, obviously caused by the weapon.

I step backward, holding his arms, and my foot hits something that rolls across the floor.

I glance down and see an empty hypospray on the floor.

"Mal? Did you take that?" I ask, gesturing.

He glances down and I can see him trying to focus on what I'm pointing at. He finally nods.

"What is it?" I ask, worried at the state he's in, and thinking I should call for a doctor.

"Just a pain shot," he mumbles.

"Have you seen a doctor?" I ask, worried.

"Doctor gave it to me. 's okay."

I sigh. He's a grown man, I have to trust him, even though all I want to do is protect him.

He dries himself off half-heartedly as I close his door, before I lead him to his bunk. It's still covered in his clothing from the fight, so I move it all.

The last item I pick up is the bag containing the weapon.

The material is so soft and velvety I almost can't believe that it contains a weapon. As I lift it I can feel that the weapon is perfectly weighted. I look to Mal's body and can't believe he would volunteer to do such a stupid thing. Why would he let himself be hurt? I don't understand him sometimes.

"That's an Akh-do," Mal says quietly from the bunk.

I look at him, broken from my thoughts. "I can't believe-" I stop and reign in my temper. He doesn't need me on his back now.

I start again.

"Why do you do it?" I ask softly, sitting down on the end of the bunk.

He shifts a little, not meeting my eyes.

"Because it's for Starfleet," he says.

"Why though? It obviously hurts - I thought I was going to see a show, you know? You two trying to out-skill each other."

"It was," he answers defensively.

I shake my head. I know I won't get any answers I'll understand, and I don't want to push him, not while he's like this.

"Get some sleep, I'll come back later." I pull his blankets around him, then stroke a hand through his still-damp hair.

He nods. "If you fix my door-lock, I'll tell you my code."

I see a small smile on his face and can't help but grin back.

"It's a deal."

 

I get back to engineering, and after a short time Jon comes down and asks if I know how Mal's doing.

I give him a vague report, not wanting to let him know how close Mal and I are. I think he's putting two and two together though. Although I think he's making something more around the three-and-a-half mark. He seems to realise Mal and I are good friends, and I'm starting to think it's only a matter of time before he realises just how good.

I finish my shift on time for once - no late nights tonight. I punch in Mal's door code, smiling at the trust it shows he has in me.

The room is dimly lit, but Mal's not in the bed. He seems to be in some sort of contorted position on the floor and for one horrible moment I think something is wrong.

Then he looks up at me.

"Commander."

"What are you doing? You should be in bed!" I go to help him up.

"I'm just stretching out. Trying to free up some of the kinks."

He slides smoothly into the splits and rests his head on his knee.

I wince just watching, but I guess he knows what he's doing.

His muscles flex under his skin, his bare back showing his ribs too.

I can see where more bruising has come out on his arms and torso. I don't know how he's even moving, let alone doing exercise. There's a deep graze across the side of his rib cage and I remember the other man using his weapon to stab at Mal. I presume Mal didn't side-step fast enough.

 

Once he looks like he's done I reach out and pull him up to standing.

"So, how are you feeling now?" I ask as he leans back against the desk.

"Fine." He gives me a lopsided smile, the cuts on his lip still clearly visible. "Thank you for earlier. I was getting a little cold."

"You seemed pretty far gone," I say cautiously. I look into the bathroom and see that the hypospray has been moved.

"Yes." He looks at the floor.

He is so gorgeous. Irresistible. So I don't resist.

I stand up and take two steps toward him, put a finger under his chin and gently kiss his mouth, trying to avoid the injuries.

There's a millisecond when he doesn't respond. Then he leans into me, kissing me back. His lips open, inviting my tongue inside.

I feel a hand slide around my waist, pulling our bodies closer together.

I can feel Mal's erection pressing through the thin material of his sweat pants. I respond, pushing against him as he groans and kisses my neck.

"I want you," he whispers in my ear, his hot breath making me shudder.

I've been waiting ten years for this - now I can't wait another moment. Neither can he apparently. He pulls at the zipper on my uniform and shoves it back off my shoulders, never breaking our kiss.

I run my hands down his back. His skin is smooth, like satin beneath my palms. I push my fingers inside the waistband of his pants, pulling his butt toward me.

Mal's hands have found their way into my shorts and he looks me straight in the eye as he takes my hard cock in his hand.

"I want you in me, right now," he says in a husky whisper.

I swallow. There's an animal need in his eyes, and I'm sure it's reflected in my own gaze. He discards his pants and sits back on the desk, legs spread, and hair messed, open to me.

He reaches for me and pulls me between his legs, kissing me.

"What about lube?" I ask.

In answer he reaches onto the shelf over his desk and hands me a pot of barrier cream. He pulls the top off and scoops some out onto his fingertips, then takes a hold of my dick, smoothing the cold cream onto me. Then he rests the tip against the entrance to his body and looks me in the eye.

"Now."

He wraps his legs around me and grips me hard, forcing me inside him. I can't help but watch as my cock slides inside him. It feels so good. Better than I remember.

I glance up at him and he catches me in a hard kiss.

Every part of my body strains for his touch, I want to touch him everywhere, kiss him, hold him to me. Ten years I've been waiting for this. For him. For us.

As I start to thrust we pant into each other's mouths, neither of us breaking the kiss. Only the sound of inarticulate sighs and moans breaking the intensity of the silence, indicating our passion.

I obviously hit the sweet spot as Mal suddenly gasps and throws his head back, exposing his throat. I move with him, kissing and sucking on his neck. I can feel his pulse beating wildly as I lick the delicate skin.

I hold him tightly, my hand on the small of his back, pulling him toward me as I try to thrust further inside him.

I reach between us and wrap my hand around his dick, pumping him in the same rhythm as I set for myself.

We both breathe in rough gasps and our movements become more erratic. Suddenly Mal's body goes rigid and he holds me tightly, looking into my eyes as his hot semen spreads between us.

I think it's the most erotic thing I've ever experienced. I come, hard, staring into his storm grey eyes, trying not to break eye contact.

 

We stay as we are, him sitting on the edge of the desk, arms and legs wrapped around me, me standing, uniform around my ankles, both leaning on each other as we get our breath back.

After a few minutes he looks up at me.

"That was amazing." He runs a hand down my chest.

I smile and kiss him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I'm worried that I took him without proper lube.

"Not at all." He shifts and I feel my softening dick slip free of his body. "I might benefit from a shower though.

He slowly stretches his legs and stands in front of me, reaching up for a kiss.

"If you manage to disentangle yourself from that mess you might want to join me," he gestures to my uniform.

I hop to the bunk, then kick off my boots and scramble out of my uniform as fast as I can as I hear him turn the shower on.

Once we're both in the small shower stall he reverently washes me all over, kissing any part of me he can reach. I return the favour, paying extra attention to every bruise, scrape and cut.

 

Once we're done and dry we lie on his bunk together, wrapped in each other. His head rests on my chest and I trace random patterns on his bicep. He's reading something on a padd, sprawled across me.

It's great to be able to relax, warm and comfortable with someone you love. Not that either of us have uttered the L word. Not yet.

I glance at the padd as he shifts and begins to tap data into it.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just looking at some weapons specs."

He pauses for a while, then carries on as if he never stopped speaking. "I've been checking the crew's training records too."

I raise an eyebrow, silently questioning.

"I've noticed that very few of the crew have any military training," he continues.

I nod. I haven't got any myself, really. "Enterprise isn't a warship," I say.

"No, but still, we're going to be exploring. We can't be as naÃ¯ve as to think every species we come across will be well-intentioned."

"You mean you're worried we'll meet some big nasty-ass ol' aliens?" I drawl.

He looks at me with a sexy half-smile that he's obviously trying to make look pitying. "I believe that's what I said, Mister Tucker, yes."

"So what can you do about it?" I ask.

"I thought I might approach the captain with some training plans. I'd rather not leave spacedock with fewer than half the crew able to operate a particle weapon."

I kiss his head. "I suppose you've had a lot of experience," I murmur into his hair.

He nods slightly. "Too much."

"You learn all that Do-Shi stuff in the SSF then?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Mal shakes his head. "It's the art of Shi-Dakahn. I became a Do-Shi three years ago."

"Right. A guy in the crowd was trying to explain to Jon and me."

"It works on many of the same principles as other martial arts. The head band signifies the level achieved."

"And the wrist band?" I ask, remembering Mal when he was in the ring.

"That's just a support. I've dislocated my thumb a few times in previous fights."

"And the stick? How come you get that when no-one else does?"

"Only Do-Shi can carry an Ahk-Do," he says, as if that explains everything. "Other weapons can be used by lower skill levels, but as they differ from place to place it was felt the competition would be fairer if it were empty-hand.

He looks over to the desk and stands in a fluid movement. He walks to where I've moved his things to and picks up the Akh-Do. Then he walks to the closet and takes out a black box - it's a good five feet tall, at least. He lays it next to me on the bed and flicks open the catches.

Inside is an impressive array of weaponry. All sorts of staffs, swords and other lethal looking things. He places the Ahk-Do in an empty slot where it nestles in the velvet. It's precise and neat, just like the rest of Mal's things.

As he begins to shut the case I lay a hand on it, stopping him.

"Tell me about them?" I ask, wanting to get another glimpse of him, this man I'm in love with.

He gives me a small smile and sits on the bunk, explaining each item to me.

 

The next morning I awake to an empty bed. I open an eye - the lights are on, but very dim.

I move and see Mal standing in the bathroom. I can see his back and one perfect buttock, so I admire the view, waiting for Mal to come back to bed.

I watch as Mal moves, lifting that damn hypospray to his neck and discharging the contents.

"Mal? You okay?" I call as I sit up.

He looks around the door, the hypospray conspicuous by it's absence. "Fine. Did I wake you?"

"No. I thought I heard you using a hypospray. Are you hurting?"

He drops his gaze. "No, just a little stiff, you know? From the fight."

I stand up, frowning. "You should see a doctor."

"It's all prescribed, Trip. The doctor gave it to me." He walks over to me and kisses me.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? I mean, with what we did last night?"

"No," he smiles self-consciously. "I'll be thinking of you occasionally, but I might rather enjoy those memories."

I hug him and kiss him back, not letting go. "I'll be thinking of you too," I say softly.

 

We both leave for our shifts early. I meet Jon for breakfast again, before I get to work in engineering. I've only been in for about ten minutes when Mal walks in. He approaches me confidently.

"Mister Tucker, I was wondering if I could borrow another multi-meter."

There's not hint of what we were doing just an hour or so before, just cool professionalism.

"Sure thing. There's a spare just over there," I nod toward the benches.

As I turn away I'm grabbed and, for a breathless second, thoroughly kissed. Then Mal turns smartly on his heel and walks away from me to fetch the kit.

"Thank you, Commander," he calls as he leaves.

I stay frozen to the spot, my mouth hanging open, then quickly glance around to see that none of my crew are looking in my direction.

I don't think he'll ever stop surprising me.

 

That night we have dinner at my place, on the station.

It's only a small apartment, a tiny kitchen and a bathroom off the sitting room and a bed that folds out of the sofa.

We share the cooking, then pick a movie from the database and curl up together.

I'm glad that something's keeping Jon out of the way. I don't want to have to share Mal just yet. I does make me think about Jon though, and the prospect of telling him about Mal and me.

"Mal?" I say, tracing a line up and down his stomach.

"Mmm?"

"I was wonderingâ€¦" I stop, hesitating.

"What?" he asks, after I've let the silence lengthen.

"Well, how we're gonnaâ€¦tell people. You know, about us?"

I feel his body stiffen and he moves to look at me.

"Tell people?"

"Yeah, you know, the cap'n, andâ€¦well, people. It's a small ship, secrets never stay secret long."

He looks terrified, although he's obviously trying to hide it.

"Iâ€¦I didn't think we'd need to tell people," he finally says.

"You don't want other people to know how happy we are?" I say, hugging him more closely.

He pulls away from me and sits silently, obviously thinking. I'm starting to learn that this usually results in some personal revelation. It's as if he needs the intervening silence to distance himself from what he's about to say.

"I've experiencedâ€¦unfavourable reactions to relationships in the past. Especially from superior officers."

I reach out to him. "I love you, you know."

He looks back at me, his eyes unreadable.

But he doesn't reply.

For a long moment the silence gains the upper hand. Then Mal leans over to me, kissing me; his lips and tongue speaking without words. And I can't help but respond. I want to talk, want to ask him what happened. But Mal obviously hasn't forgotten some of the tricks of his old trade. His powers of distraction are as good as ever.

We're all over each other, film forgotten, everything forgotten except the two of us.

We remove all our clothes - fumbling with zips and buttons. I lie on top of Mal, our lips and cocks touching. I feel his hand on my back, one sliding over my butt. He pulls me against him, kneading the flesh.

"I want you," he pants, "Want to bury myself inside you."

I swallow. I've still never bottomed, even after all this time.

Somehow it never felt right; I've never wanted another man like I wanted Mal. I've never trusted anyone like I trust him either.

"I haven'tâ€¦I mean, I've never, you know," I stutter.

He stops kissing me, pulling back just a little so he can see me.

"You've never had someone take you?" he strokes a hand through my hair.

I shake my head.

He kisses me gently, then murmurs against my lips, "Boy, have you been missing out."

He makes me lie on my front. I remember what he did to me all those years ago. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Lube?" he asks.

"Yeah, in the bathroom," I gesture. At least I'm a little more prepared this time.

"And some oil?"

I frown. "No, I don't have any."

"You sure?" he kisses me on the shoulder and trails his hand down my back as he heads off to find what he wants.

He returns a few seconds later brandishing a tube of lubricant and a bottle of cooking oil.

"What's that for?" I ask, wondering what he's got in mind.

"The most important thing is for you to relax and enjoy yourself."

He straddles my thighs and I grin, twisting to try and see what he's doing.

He pours some oil into his hand before rubbing it between his palms. Then he begins to gently massage my shoulders and back.

I sigh and rest my head on my arms. He's very good at this - finding knots and gently working them out, making me truly relax for the first time in ages.

Once or twice he stops, only to begin again with more oil. He moves and works his way down each of my arms, even massaging every finger individually. He repeats the performance with my legs, then encourages me to roll over onto a towel he's thoughtfully put down.

He sits at the bottom of the bed cross-legged and pulls my right foot into his lap, massaging it thoroughly, looking up at me.

"How're you feeling?"

"Wunnerful," I drawl. I can feel my dick filling out as I watch what he's doing, his warm hands rubbing over me.

"Relaxed?"

"Uh-hu," I nod.

"Ready to move on to the next step?" he asks, putting down my right foot and lifting my left.

"Definitely."

"Firstly I'm just going to relax your muscles. It might feel a bit strange at first. I'll only be using my fingers, but if anything hurts you've got to tell me, okay?"

I nod, not wanting to think about it too much.

He rolls me onto my front again and gentle runs a hand down over my butt, kissing each cheek. Then he strokes one slick finger down my crack and I immediately feel myself tense. It's not that it doesn't feel nice, but I'm not used to anyone else touching me there. It's an odd feeling.

Mal obviously feels my reaction and he goes back to stroking his open palm over my buttocks, planting the odd kiss on me.

Then he shifts, putting his lips over my hole and gently sucking and licking.

It feelsâ€¦wrong. That he should be there, doing that.

He pauses for a moment, still stroking with his hands.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Mm." I grunt, not wanting to tell him how I feel.

"I love doing this," he says, swiping his tongue over me and making me jump, because it does feel good, when I'm not thinking about the mechanics of his mouth over my ass hole. "It's very intimate. Very special." He licks again, and this time I try and stay relaxed. "Just think about how much I'm enjoying it," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

It helps, him telling me he likes doing it. And I try to let go of all that I was taught about stuff like this being dirty and nasty, I try to focus on the feeling of him.

I feel something cool replacing his tongue after a while, and as I feel a slight pressure I realise he's pushing a finger inside of me.

"Just relax, Trip. Keep breathing."

He rubs a hand up and down my back in long soothing strokes, and it distracts me slightly from what's going on elsewhere.

Once I can feel his hand up against my ass he stops for a second.

"How does it feel? Okay?"

I nod. I'm not about to tell him it feels like I badly need a shit. I mean, I may not be the most romantic person in the world, but even I can see how that would break the mood. "It just feelsâ€¦strange," I say, as diplomatically as I can.

I feel the pressure return and wonder what he's doing now, but it still doesn't hurt.

"That's two fingers now, Trip," he says.

I'm not sure I'm going to rave about it like other people do, but I guess it's not bad. If Mal wants to do this sometimes I can live with that. He seems to enjoy being on this end of things well enough, so I guess we can both stay happy.

I feel Mal move slightly and I think he's changed the angle he's working at, from the feel of his remaining fingers outside me.

Then he touches something inside me and I almost jump out of my skin. He works his fingers and wave after wave of pleasure wash over me.

"Oh God, oh Mal," I breathe, wanting more of him to touch the sweet spot. I begin to wriggle, trying to guide him, trying to get more of that feeling.

"That feels good, does it?" he asks, and I can hear the almost-teasing note in his voice.

"Mmm, yeah, God, feels so good." I know I'm babbling, but I just want more of him.

"Ready for another finger?"

I nod, biting my lip, wanting all of him, not just another finger.

Then, as he works his three fingers into me I suddenly feel like I'm cramping up and let out a little grunt of pain.

Mal must guess that I'm hurting, because he stops the movement and rubs my lower back again.

"We don't have to go all the way, not if it's not what you want. We won't do anything you're not comfortable with," he says soothingly.

"No, I want to, I really want to." I want to do anything to get that feeling of a minute ago back.

"You think you're ready?" he asks.

I nod hesitantly. I know he won't hurt me, but that doesn't stop me being a little nervous.

"If I hurt you, tell me. I'll go very slowly. Just get used to each little bit like you have with my fingers."

"Okay," I nod and take a deep breath, trying to relax.

"Kneel up, face the wall, use it to brace yourself," he says, then kisses my shoulder once I'm in position.

"This will give you some control," he says as he positions himself behind me.

I watch over my shoulder as he squeezes yet more lube onto his hand and slides his rock-hard dick through his slick palm. It suddenly looks very big. Far too big.

He looks into my eyes and obviously sees the worry.

"It'll be okay. Tell me if you want me to stop."

I nod, then turn back and face the wall as I feel him position the head of his cock against my body.

The pressure is greater this time, but not too uncomfortable. It's steady until suddenly there's a tiny stab of pain and he stops moving, resting his forehead on my shoulder.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Sure," I answer, and it really is. It doesn't feel anything like as full as I thought it would.

"Ready for the rest?"

I gulp. "The rest? How far in are you?"

"Just the head. You feel so good. Just a few more inches to go." He's obviously trying to make me feel better, because I know Mal's packing more than a few inches.

It definitely won't fit.

Mal begins pushing, gently rocking in and out, pushing a little more each time.

"You feel amazing Trip," he says as he reaches round and takes my dick in his still-slippery hand. He pumps his fist on me in time with his own movements, giving me something else to focus on.

After what seems like an age - and when I'm pretty sure Mal's cock must be a good few feet long - he finally reaches up and whispers huskily into my ear.

"How does that feel? That's all of me. Every bit inside your tight hot body."

I shudder. "Feelsâ€¦full. Good though. Is it okay for you?"

"I feel like I'm closer to you than ever before," he kisses my neck. "Feel like we're really together." He pauses, and I can feel his hot breath on my skin. Then he moves slightly. "Ready to carry on?"

I nod, and Mal pulls out before gently thrusting back inside me. He makes a small moaning noise and I find it incredibly erotic. He wraps an arm around my chest as a counterpoint to the one already around my hip.

On about the third thrust he hits the spot and I feel as my entire body reacts.

He continues regardless, hitting it every time now. I feel like I'm about to explode, it's almost too much pleasure.

When Mal reaches up and pulls on my earlobe with his teeth it's too much and I come harder than I ever have before, feeling my semen add to the heat of his hand around my cock.

I drop my head back, panting loudly, half groaning at the amazing feeling still pulsing through me.

I can hear Mal's breathing too, so I turn my head and plant a half-kiss against his hair.

"Youâ€¦came?" I ask.

"When you did," he looks up and smiles in a dopey way.

Then he removes his now-sticky hand from me and brings it up to his lips, sucking a finger. He watches me watching him, then holds out the next cum-covered digit to me. I lick it, tasting a combination of me and the lube.

He gently pulls out of me, leaving me feeling very empty and wet. He doesn't let go of me though, instead pulling me down into a hug on the bed.

"You might feel a touch of discomfort tomorrow," he says.

"It was worth it," I smile, earning myself a kiss.

We snuggle together, enjoying the warmth. I can't help but trace my finger over the darkening bruises on his body, although he doesn't seem at all concerned by his injuries.

"Never thought losing my virginity would be so good," I say quietly, smiling at him.

Mal stays silent.

"How'd you lose yours?" I ask, gathering Mal in my arms so his head rests on my chest.

He pauses for a second, then shrugs. "Boarding school. Nothing special, no-one special."

"Oh." I'm not quite sure what to say, so I half-change the subject. "I didn't know you went to boarding school." Although maybe I could have guessed. "Was that back in England?"

He nods. "I was born in Malaysia, but I was schooled in England. I spent most of my summers in Asia."

"Seeing your folks? I used to love summer, all that time to spend seeing my family. Spending all my days outdoors," I reminisce.

"I used to spend time with our nanny, yes. Although Mother would try and spend time with us most weeks."

"Most weeks?" I can't help but let an incredulous tone into my voice.

"Yes. She and father would try to take a week off at some point too."

"What about your other holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas?" I ask.

He laughs a little. "We don't have thanksgiving in England. And I spent Christmas at school. Although some years other relatives would take us."

"You'd be at school for Christmas?"

I can't believe anyone would miss out on Christmas with their family.

"To be honest, I preferred it. I hated going to my parent's, although I did enjoy exploring the places they lived in."

"It was that bad?" I ask softly.

He shrugs. "I wanted independence, respect, I wanted to do well. Being with my father took all of those things away from me."

"Oh, Mal," I kiss the top of his head, not knowing what to say. "You'll have to come and meet my parents."

"They know you're bisexual?" he sounds surprised.

"No, but as soon as I tell them. Mom'll go crazy for you."

"I wish I could say the same," he says softly, then twists around to look at me. "You must understand that it doesn't reflect on you, but on their own narrow-mindedness."

I nod, touched that he would think to reassure me.

"What about you siblings? You made it sound like you weren't the only child."

"No, I have a sister, Madelaine. I believe she might like you."

The soft smile that touches his lips shows that he at least has someone in his family who he obviously likes and gets on with.

"What does she do?" I ask, interested.

"She's a professor of marine biology. Last I heard she was running a research project in some reef somewhere," Mal answers.

"She's aâ€¦so she went to university too?" I ask, wondering if she's had to do anything like her brother.

"Yes." Mal doesn't expand. I hardly expected him to.

 

We fall asleep in each other's arms. It somehow managed to turn into the early hours before we noticed.

The next morning the comm system chirps ridiculously early, and I roll over to answer it.

It's Jon, telling me something about aliens and Enterprise leaving early. I'm half concentrating, but Mal's kissing my back, his hands wandering over my body. I desperately want to tell Jon that whatever it is can wait until I've ravished his armoury officer.

But as soon as Jon cuts the connection, instead of a last few sleepy minutes snuggling, Mal's up and dressing.

"Where're you going?" I ask.

"If we're to leave early I have a lot to do. We don't, as yet, have any weapons on Enterprise that could harm a fly."

************************************************

 

And that's it. That message from Jon marks the end of our getting any time together. I move my things onto Enterprise, with Mal's help, then I don't see him again until he crawls into his bunk at just gone three in the morning.

With my belongings all in boxes we decided it made more sense to stay in Mal's quarters. I had assumed that meant I'd get a nice warm lieutenant to sleep with - and for three and a half hours I do, then, at six-thirty, he crawls out of bed again.

I assume he's going to use the bathroom, but when I next open an eye he's dressing whilst leaning over the console on his desk.

"Mal? What you doing?" I drawl sleepily.

"I'm sorry," he leans over and kisses my forehead, "I promised I'd be back in the armoury for seven."

"You only just got here," I protest.

"I know, but I'm not about to leave a bunch of gamma shift fitters putting in our only phase cannon."

And he's gone again.

 

I follow his example, struggling out of bed and going back to engineering, spurred on by Mal's dedication.

We're all working hard, but as the warp five engine is the whole point of Enterprise, I suppose she's got more attention than the other departments, so to be honest, she's pretty much ready to fly. I'm mainly sorting out the ordering of all the bits we're going to need to keep her running in peak condition, as well as supervising the bigger engineering projects. At the moment it's a close run thing as to whether Enterprise will leave space dock with a fully working galley, and I for one don't relish taking her on her first mission with a crew fed only on Starfleet ration packs.

I'm not entirely sure what Jon's up to, but I know he's rounding up crew and I guess he's involved with the top brass trying to work out exactly what we're about to do.

He tries to keep in touch, and it rather looks like we're going to be leaving sooner not later.

 

I catch up with Mal in the mess hall sometime in the afternoon. He has a mug of coffee in his hand and is obviously not intending to stop.

"Mal, stop, sit down," I say as I grab his arm.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Commander." He tries to turn away.

"I haven't seen you for days. Please, just sit down for five minutes."

"Trip, I would love to, you know I would, but right now I have to align the targeting scanners."

He obviously notices the sad look on my face.

"Look - dinner, at twenty hundred hours, or as soon as I can make it. Okay?"

I smile, relenting. "I'll hold you to it, Lieutenant."

"I rather thought you might."

He glances around, and seeing the coast is clear he reaches out and squeezes my hand. "You have my permission to come and drag me out of the armoury if I don't show."

That means a lot to me. I know he wants to spend the time together as much as I do really, but I also appreciate that our lives are currently run by our duties.

 

I end up heading toward the armoury at twenty fifteen anyway. I'm sure he's just caught up with some project and hasn't noticed the time, but as I was given permission to fetch him I may as well.

I walk in and look around, but he's no-where to be seen.

I call out to one of the fitting crew.

"Crewman, have you seen Lieutenant Reed?"

The man frowns. "The English one? I think he went to sickbay, sir."

I swallow and a horrible cold feeling moves across my skin and scalp. "Sickbay?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry I don't know the details, but I've only just come on shift."

I thank the man and all but run to sickbay.

 

When I get there Mal's sitting on the edge of a biobed, his right hand cradled in a whole pile of dressings on his lap. There's a medic hovering nearby.

"Lieutenant?" All I want to do is run over and hug him, but the one word is all I allow myself.

His eyes meet mine and the small sorry smile he gives me tells me more than words could.

"Commander, I'm sorry. I should have informed you I would be late for our appointment."

I wave a hand dismissively.

"What happened?" I ask, leaning up against the side of the bed, trying to look like any superior officer checking up on one of his men.

"I was working on the launch system when one of the mechanisms malfunctioned. I'm afraid I wasn't following correct safety procedure." He glances down at his hand.

"Bad?" I ask, worried.

"No, I'll be fine in a few hours."

Then the medic lifts away the cold pack and I see how swollen and bloody Mal's index and middle finger are.

"As soon as the swelling goes down, sir, then we'll close the wounds," the medic says to him.

He nods, and I'm sure he's not telling anyone just how painful it must be.

"Any chance of letting me go and get some food, if I promise to return in an hour or so?" he asks.

She doesn't exactly look amused, but once she's sorted him out with more cold packs and a sling she shoos us both out.

 

As soon as we're out of sight of everyone I slide a hand around his waist.

"How are you really?" I ask.

"Fine. She gave me a pain shot before setting the bones and using the regenerator.

And now I know just how much he was underplaying his injury.

"You broke them?" I say, sounding incredulous.

He closes his eyes for a second, as if inwardly kicking himself for letting that bit of information slip.

"It's a piece of equipment designed to hurl items into space. Even its peripheral systems exert rather a lot of force when in motion."

I sigh. "Sounds like I'm lucky to still have all of the bits of you that I had this morning."

He gives a weak grin.

 

We reach the mess and I make him sit down whilst I fetch some food. I figure pasta should sustain him if he intends to continue working, which, knowing him, he does.

We sit by a window, looking out on the spacedock.

I hand Mal his fork and we tuck in, his right hand now on the table, sandwiched between two cold packs.

"So, how are things in general?" I ask.

"Slower than I'd like, but we're getting there," he answers, sounding tired.

"No-one else putting in the hours you need 'em to?" I ask, worried that he's having problems with the fitting teams.

"Oh, no, they are, they are. But we need more crew, more time, more equipment." He shrugs.

"So, if we do leave in a day or two, will you be ready - I mean, will the armoury?"

He snorts. "No, not as ready as I believe we should be, but I don't suppose that will matter."

"What won't matter?" I ask, confused.

He stops and puts his fork down.

"The captain has made it perfectly clear that we will go, regardless of my views," he sighs. "And whilst that may make my job harder, it may save the Warp Five project, and, more importantly, a life. Potentially many lives."

I nod. I guess, as a tactician, Mal is used to weighing up the pros and cons and continually re-evaluating situations and making the best of them.

I run a foot up Mal's calf.

"I know you'll do your best, my little apple dumpling," I tease, smiling at the look of shock he gives at my endearment.

"Shall we refrain from the nicknames whilst on duty, Commander?" he says, although he's smiling.

"You don't like it?" I feign shock.

"Not unless I can reciprocate, cupcake."

I snort, glad that he's up to joking.

"We should get you back to sickbay before they send out a search party. You've got a date with a regenerator."

 

He's back at work an hour later, against all medical advice.

I try to get to see him more - after all, being chief engineer I figure I should oversee the work.

But when I finally reach his quarters at midnight, after a small disagreement with a bunch of power couplings, he's not there.

I change into jeans and a shirt, then head back to the armoury, determined to make him take a break.

He's leaning over a console, sleeves rolled up and the top buttons of his black undershirt undone. He looks gorgeous, but absolutely shattered.

I walk up behind him, taking advantage of the fact it's quiet at this time of night, with only the Gamma shift around.

"Come to bed with me," I whisper.

He glances at me. "I'd love to."

"What are you waiting for then?" I slide my hand over his and squeeze.

He flinches away, and at first I think it's because we're in such a public place, but as he pulls his hand close to his chest and starts rubbing it I realise he's still hurting.

"Bed. Now." I whisper, then stand back, waiting.

He quickly finishes what he was doing and puts a few things away. Then he has a word with the crew chief of the current fitting squad. And we're finally on the way to his quarters.

Once there I strip his uniform off of him and shove him in the direction of the shower. I notice that the bruising on his body is fading rapidly, and I wonder if there's something else in those hypo shots he was taking, as well as a painkiller.

I find a towel for him, then climb into his bunk. I look around the small room. He hasn't unpacked anymore than I have - the room is pretty much empty. But I don't know where the rest of his things can be stored. My place is full of my boxes. I guess he could have some things in storage on the station still, if they were transported up.

He emerges from the shower and snags the towel I left him. As he dries himself he tidies away a few things - although the place could never be called messy. He picks up my uniform and folds it neatly, then takes a last look around the room before hanging the towel up and climbing into bed.

I snuggle up to him, wrapping my arms around him and inhaling his clean scent.

"How's the hand?" I ask.

Mal holds it up and slowly flexes the fingers.

"It aches a little. I'll live though."

I take the appendage in question and hold it very gently between my own hands. I can feel the heat where it's trying its best to heal.

"You're meant to rest it on ice, not work for another two or more hours," I scold.

He half shrugs as he snuggles closer to me. "I'll trust you to kiss it better."

I laugh, then spoon up behind him, our bodies touching from head to toe.

"What about you? Have you felt okay today?" he murmurs sleepily.

"Me? Fine." It seems an odd question, given that he's obviously the injured one.

"I mean, after our activities last night. You haven't experienced any discomfort?" He reaches backwards and strokes a hand down my side to my butt.

"Oh. No, I'm fine. I've had a few moments when it's brought back some memories, but not ones suitable for further thought in a room full of my crew," I grin.

"As long as you're not hurting. As soon as this madness is over I'm sure we can examine some of those memories together.

I'm beginning to think Mal's about as close to perfection as a mere mortal can get.

I'm going to have to tell Jon about us soon. Not because he's our captain, but because he's my best friend, and I want him to know that Mal makes me this happy. So as the man I love lies sleeping in my arms I try and plan how to tell my parents and best friend that I've found The One.

 

The next day we're both up early again - back working in our respective departments. It's a manic time, and I only meet Mal when we both rush back to his quarters to change into fresh clean uniforms for the leaving ceremony. We rush around the tiny room getting in each other's way, and stress gives way to me getting fits of the giggles when I try and pull on his black undershirt--which of course sets Mal off laughing too as I struggle to regain my composure.

But despite the thin veneer of calm we put on to cover up the multiple layers of near-chaos, Enterprise finally leaves on her maiden voyage on time and with no hitches.

Our first mission goes with surprisingly few problems, and once we've restored an uneasy peace we're told to carry on - our mission has started.

There are a few initial problems with various crewmembers. Most people weren't prepared for a five-year mission, and many had banked on going back to Earth to pick up more personal belongings. I wonder if that's why Mal's room is so bare, because his things hadn't been transported up from Earth yet.

 

I can't help thinking though, that I should tell people about us. We're going to be out here for a long time. And people will find out. Now that everything's calmed down and I've sorted out my cabin we spend a lot of time there. It's only so long before someone puts two and two together when they see Mal and me entering or leaving.

Tonight, however, I decide we should sort out Mal's place. Make it a bit more homey.

I eat dinner with the captain and T'Pol, then make my excuses. Jon gives me an odd look, but he doesn't actually come out and ask me where I keep disappearing to in the evenings.

 

I reach Mal's cabin and ring the chime. I do have the code, but it just seems more polite not to barge in when I know he's home. He calls for me to enter and looks up from where he's working on his tiny desk.

"Hey love. Did you have a pleasant meal?"

"Sure did. You?"

He shrugs, and I wonder if he's eaten at all.

"I thought we could sort out this place now we've finished mine," I smile, rubbing my hands together.

"Sort it out?" he frowns and looks around.

"Yeah, you know, unpack the rest of your stuff, make it a bit more inviting an' all. Where's your things stored?"

He looks blank.

"There aren't any otherâ€¦'things'," he finally says.

"What about, y'know, pictures, nick-nacksâ€¦justâ€¦things," I wave my hand in an all-encompassing gesture.

"This is all there is."

He sounds defensive,

"Oh. I'm sorry," I offer.

"You weren't to know." He looks around and gives a tiny half-smile, "It is a little bare."

 

He's a bit distant all night after that. I stay in his quarters, but leave early, changing into a fresh uniform before breakfast with Jon.

Halfway through the meal Jon lays down his spoon.

"Trip, what's wrong?" he asks.

I look up, surprised. "Nothin'."

"You been very quiet these last few days. I know something's on your mind."

I want to tell him about Mal so badly, but I don't know if Mal would want me to. So I keep my mouth shut, for now.

 

By the end of the day I'm wondering if I made the right decision. Jon calls T'Pol and me to his quarters.

When I get there he looks worried.

"T'Pol, Trip, have either of you checked your private messages today?"

I shake my head.

"I did so this morning, Captain," T'Pol answers.

"There was nothing unusual?" he asks.

"No, there was not."

"I think it came in later than that anyway," he says almost to himself.

"What did?" I prompt, wishing he would stop being cryptic.

He takes a deep breath. "I think we have a problem relating to Lieutenant Reed."

I'm sure he notices my reaction, despite my attempt not to let anything show at the mention of Mal's name.

T'Pol raises and eyebrow.

"Iâ€¦received some images in a message via the latest mail batch. They are somewhat compromising. By the look of the address coding I'm pretty sure each of you will have received copies too," he pauses. "The message asks me if I know what kind of man I have on this ship as an officer. I think I can safely say I did not, and I doubt either of you two does either. I suggest you go and check your mail, and then we further discuss this matter. In the meantime, I'll have a word with the lieutenant."

I want to go and see Mal, but not knowing what's going on, I don't see what I could do to help him.

So I head for my quarters and pull the day's communications. There are some engineering reports, a message from a friend, one from my sister and then - an unmarked file - no sender name.

I hesitate, then open it.

The pictures shock even me.

Mal is in all of them, contorted to different positions. I count at least four different men fucking him and using him in every way imaginable. Their faces aren't visible, but his is.

There's everything from blowjobs to anal, bondage to spit-roasts. It makes me remember how he was when I first saw him. It makes me sad. This isn't the Mal I know.

And suddenly I'm worried. Jon's in his office right now, with Mal. Jon, who's seen these pictures. He doesn't know Mal like I do. He doesn't know that this isn't really Mal, not Mal now, not the officer who I met just the short time ago. It's not the same person at all.

I get up and run.

 

When I hit the button outside Jon's door it opens immediately. I look into the room, but it's empty, apart from Jon.

"Iâ€¦Iâ€¦where's Malcolm?" I stammer, catching my breath.

"He left," Jon answers simply.

"Left?"

"He wouldn't defend himself, Trip, he wouldn't say anything, except that these pictures have no bearing on his ability as an officer. Trip, I'm going to think about what I should do."

"Where is he now?" I can't keep the note of desperation out of my voice.

"I don't know, Trip. Why?"

"I have to find him," I say softly as I leave without being dismissed.

 

I search the ship, but no one seems to have seen him. His quarters are empty, and he's not in the mess hall or the gym.

Eventually I check the cargo holds, and find Mal sitting on some crates. His arms are wrapped around his knees, face buried.

I walk up to him and stand, not sure what to do.

He doesn't look up.

"Mal?" I eventually say softly, when it's clear he's not going to acknowledge my presence.

"No."

The muffled voice is soft, almost inaudible.

"'No' what?" I ask, confused.

"Whatever you came to say, don't."

I hunker down, so I'm looking slightly up at him. "I saw the pictures."

I can't see the point in not telling him, he must have guessed, if Jon didn't tell him.

"What did Jon say?" I ask, wanting to know that Jon didn't say anything stupid to Mal.

He doesn't answer.

I reach out and put a hand near his knee, stroking my thumb over the fabric of his uniform.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask softly.

There a pause, then a small voice.

"Leave me alone."

"I can't do that, Mal, I love you," I say, firmly, willing him to know that that's the truth.

"Just go," he says, as he raises his head and looks at me for the first time. And maybe I would have gone if it weren't for the total desolation I see in his eyes.

"No," I say firmly.

"Please," he says, and there's a note of desperation in his voice.

"No."

I sit on the floor and wait, not looking at him, but showing him that I'm not leaving him. Not now, not ever.

We sit in silence for a long time before he speaks again.

"Why are you here?"

I stare at him, my mouth open. There are so many reasons, but I only answer with the most important one.

"Because I love you."

He makes a little mirthless snort.

"What does that mean?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Love."

"Itâ€¦it meansâ€¦Iâ€¦" I struggle to find the words, because it's not that simple. "It means I want to help you, I want to understand you, I want to be with you, it means that without you, I'm less of a person."

"Why?" he asks, not meeting my gaze.

"Why? There's no set reason, Mal, it just happens that way. It's just how it is. You mean everything to me."

"I don't mean anything." He looks into my eyes. "I don't mean anything," he repeats quietly, as if to convince me.

"What are you talking about?" I can't help but let a spark of irritation into my voice. Irritation that he could ever think such a thing, that anyone else had ever let him think that of himself.

"I have no respect, not for myself, not from anyone else. They took that from me, and they keep taking it every single time."

And finally there's something in his voice, anger, maybe. But it's something. It's a move away from the flat monotonous voice of despair.

"Every time what? Mal, who are they?"

"Every time it comes back to me. Everywhere I go and every time I try and be something that's better than that, better than what I was. They just drag me back. I did what I did to get here and now those same actions are going to take all this away again."

He stands suddenly and walks away.

I jump up and follow him, brushing the dust from my uniform. I catch him in the turbolift.

"Mal, please, talk to me. What are you doing?"

"I'm getting it over with. I'm finishing this."

"Finishing what? Mal? What?"

The lift stops at the bridge and Mal strides out before I can say anything else.

"Sir, could I speak to you in private?" he asks, ever the formal officer.

"Of course," Jon throws a quick glance toward me, then stands and gestures Mal to his office.

"I think perhaps it would be best if the Sub-Commander and Commander Tucker were to join us, sir," he says, no trace of emotion.

 

We all enter the office, Jon and T'Pol next to Jon's desk, Mal standing to attention near the door. I settle for leaning against the wall between them.

"Lieutenant?" Jon prompts as soon as the door has closed.

"Sir, I've been thinking, since we spoke earlier. I understand what an impossible position you have been put in. I think it would solve everyone's problems if I tender my resignation. I trust it will be possible for me to travel back to Earth with as short a delay as possible."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My jaw drops open. Silence lays heavy in the small room.

 

Jon finally regains his composure.

"Refused, Lieutenant," he finally says, his voice almost cracking.

"Sir?" Mal looks confused.

"From what I can gather, Lieutenant, those pictures were taken some time ago."

"Yes, sir," Mal looks completely miserable.

"Do you know how they came to be sent to the three of us?" Jon asks.

"No, sir," Mal replies.

"It seems to me, Lieutenant, that your past is coming back to haunt you."

Jon looks up at Mal.

"Yes, sir."

Mal doesn't meet his gaze.

"And has this happened before?"

Mal pauses, as if debating whether to answer. Finally he does.

"Yes, sir, it has."

"On the Orion Omega?" Jon asks, and I suddenly realise that Jon knows a little more about all this than I do.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No, sir."

Jon smiles slightly and shakes his head. "That wasn't a choice, Lieutenant."

Mal looks at the floor and takes a deep breath.

"Some pictures were sent to crewmembers, sir. I wasâ€¦angry. My superiors questioned my ability to do my job, having lost the respect of my crew. Captain Gregory was forced to take action. I was demoted for conduct unbecoming of an officer, sir."

"I see," Jon nods. "And the people responsible for sending them?"

"They were never traced, sir," Mal answers in a small voice.

"I see."

Jon looks at me and I give a minute shrug.

"Lieutenant, take the rest of the day off. Report for duty as usual tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Mal answers, looking miserable.

"And we won't mention this again, okay?"

"Sir."

"All right, dismissed Lieutenant." Jon waves a hand.

Mal nods, turns sharply on his heel and leaves.

I look from Jon to T'Pol and back.

"Cap'n," I suddenly blurt out. "I have to tell you something."

"Trip?" Jon raises his eyebrows.

"Malcolm and Iâ€¦we'reâ€¦in a relationship. I think...thoughtâ€¦you should know."

Jon looks totally shocked. T'Pol just has one eyebrow raised - which I suppose is totally shocked, for a Vulcan.

"You - for how long? Since I introduced you?" Jon stutters.

"Actually, Cap'n, we met quite a while ago, when Malcolm was still going through college. We kinda saw each other for a while then," I admit.

"You never said a word," he accuses.

"No. Well, we both knew it wasn't going to last. We had different paths we needed to take." I try to keep my voice steady, even though the memory of leaving him still hurts me.

"And now those paths have crossed again?" Jon muses. "Well, I suggest you go and talk to him, check he's all right. But watch your step, Trip. I don't want to see you getting hurt. You have a fine career; don't give it all up by doing something stupid."

He dismisses me and I take the chance to go and find Mal.

The implication of Jon's words angers me, but I know he's only trying to do what he thinks is right. However wrong he is.

 

This time when I track Mal down, he's sitting halfway up one of the nacelle struts, legs dangling down the access hatch.

He moves aside slightly to allow me to hitch myself up opposite him, then he continues to stare down between his feet. It's quite a drop, and for a second I worry about why he came here - what he's thinking.

I don't know what to say. I'm not sure there is anything to be said, but I need to be near him, so we sit in silence.

"I'm glad that the captain refused my resignation," he finally says very quietly.

I look up to find him gazing at me.

"So 'm I, Mal," I answer.

He nods. "The captain was right. I can't let it haunt me forever."

His voice is getting stronger as he speaks, as if he's trying to convince himself as much as me. Maybe this is what he needed - a captain who was willing to disregard the pictures, who would support him.

"You know, the one good thing about the SSF was that no one knew where I was. No one could find me and do this then, not even most of the command officers," he says.

I reach out and rest my hand on his knee. "If there's anything I can doâ€¦" I don't really know what to offer, so I leave the sentence hanging.

He nods and smiles bravely, but in his eyes I see the same stoic vulnerability as I did all those years ago.

"I told Jon and T'Pol about us," I blurt out, knowing that I have to tell him sooner or later.

"What did they say?" he asks, not looking at all surprised that I told them, despite him asking me not too. I wonder what that says about how much he trusts me.

"Not much. Looked kinda shocked, I guess. Especially Jon."

"He doesn't mind his best friend - his chief engineer - being involved with someone like me?" Mal asks.

"You mean someone brave and clever and gorgeous? No - he doesn't mind," I grin.

My soppiness earns me a small smile from Mal - although whether it's with me or at me I couldn't really say.

 

He finally takes a deep breath and looks at me again.

"Shall we move - to somewhere more comfortable, maybe?" he asks.

I nod. We head for his cabin, as it's closer. He looks tired, and I feel sorry for him. When he keys open his door I can see his hand trembling slightly, a sign of the strain he's feeling, perhaps.

He stands back and lets me enter first. He heads straight for his bunk and sits with his back to the wall, knees pulled up again.

"Where did those pictures come from?" I ask gently, hoping that he knows me well enough to know I won't judge him, whatever he's done in the past.

He sits in silence, contemplating his hands. I don't think he's going to answer me at first, but then he begins to speak.

"That night - the last time I saw you. I wasâ€¦the night before, they did that to me. That's why I was in a bad way."

"Theyâ€¦didn't you fight them? I mean, you looked like you'd been beaten up. Before, you said you got into fights, you said you'd beaten up those other two."

He shakes his head. "I went with a trick, for a drink, like we did. He said he needed one before he did me. Then he drugged me, in my drink. The rest showed up and dragged me off. I couldn't move, couldn't fight. I was awake, I knew what was happening, but I couldn't do anything about it. I was stupid, I should have been more careful."

I can hear the anger in his voice, although he tries to suppress it. And the language he uses seems to distance him from the old Mal â€“ I can tell that heâ€™s parcelled this memory up in his mind and almost believes it didnâ€™t happen to him, now. I can't imagine how he must have felt, being helpless. Mal isn't the helpless sort.

"Youâ€¦they drugged you? You didn't consent to any of that?" I can't keep the anger and surprise out of my voice.

Mal shakes his head, looking a million times more miserable, if possible.

"Did you report it? Where they ever caught?" I ask, moving to sit next to him.

He shakes his head again, although I'm not sure which of my questions he's responding to. I suppose it amounts to the same thing.

"So do you have any idea who's sending the photo's out now?" I ask, wondering how whoever it is knows where he's posted, or how to access the Starfleet communications network.

He doesn't respond, looking lost in his own thoughts.

"Well why don't you tell Jon. Why didn't you tell Gregory? He wouldn't have demoted you, surely, if he'd known the whole story. Tell someone, tell me. We can sort it out."

"I can't. I'd rather just forget all about it," he says.

"Well that's working, isn't it?" I say sarcastically. "How are you going to forget it when every time you get posted someplace new those pictures follow you around?"

He springs off the bed and begins pacing, tension coming off him in waves.

I immediately wish I could take back my words. He doesn't need hassle off me on top of everything else.

"And how would that solve anything? It isn't a crime, Commander, to send pictures of people to other people. There is nothing that could be done." He turns and stops, standing still and looking back at me. "Besides, it would hardly take much digging to find out about my past, and then who would take my word against someone else's? Who would believe that I didn't enter into that situation agreeably?"

"They wouldn't, I mean, theyâ€¦it doesn't matter, anyway, if you can stop whoever it is sending them, well, that's crime enough, them sending the pictures. If you really don't want to do anything about what they did to you I suppose you don't have to. But you can't go on knowing that every new assignment you get these pictures will follow you around."

"There is no crime in sending those pictures. They're not blackmail or anything," he says, wearily. And I can tell that this isn't a fight he wants. He's not prepared to even think about standing up for himself. I wonder what he hasn't told me, because this isn't like Mal. There must be something more, something that has defeated him. I wish he would tell me.

 

I stay with him that night. He's not very talkative, but I didn't expect him to be.

I can't think of anything to say that won't make things worse, so I keep my mouth shut. I've got my own opinions on what should be done to the people who hurt Mal, and part of me can't believe that he'd let them get away with it without so much as a thought. But I know I'm being irrational. This is a shock to me, but he's lived with it for years. He must have gone through every emotion, worked through every scenario in his mind. I can't begin to understand why he decided not to do or say anything, but somehow he came to that decision, and I shouldn't question him.

 

The next morning he seems a little happier as he heads off to his shift. Mal's never liked forced inactivity, he always prefers to work, especially if he's got something to think about.

I head for breakfast with Jon, although I'm dreading the questions he's bound to ask. I walk in the door, not making eye contact with him. He's got one of his smug 'I know something you don't' looks on his face.

I sit down and try to ignore him smiling at me. But in the end I can't.

"What?" I ask, snapping a little more than I mean to.

"Just thought you might like to hear a bit of news hot off the Starfleet presses," he grins.

"What? Something about Enterprise?"

"In a way," Jon nods.

"So, go on, what is it," I ask, trying to pretend not to be too interested, just because I know he wants me to be.

He laughs and leans forward, gesturing at me with his spoon.

"Friend of yours is coming to stay with us. See how it's really done, out here, learn how Enterprise is different from the Starfleet simulators."

"Yeah? Who?" I sometimes feel like I know everyone in Starfleet.

"Tom Davenport," Jon says.

"Tom? You're joking!" I haven't spoken to him since before Enterprise left. Tom and I were friends - joined up around the same time. We worked together a lot. He's clever, a brilliant engineer, but also a good laugh.

"So what, he's coming onboard for good?" I ask, already smiling at the thought of seeing him again.

"No, probably just a few months. It depends what we get up to really. Starfleet are happy to pick him up again whenever it's convenient. They want you to tell him about all the changes and improvements you've made to the warp drive so he can pass them on to R and D. They obviously want to learn from your mistakes," Archer grins, teasing me.

 

The news keeps me smiling all morning and when I find an excuse I head for the armoury. Mal's in there on his own, working on some minute circuitry that means he's on his knees next to one of the torpedo launchers. Next to him a cloth spread on the floor with his toolbox. There are components laid out, each in perfect position ready for refitting. He looks around as I enter and smiles.

"You okay?" I ask, gesturing to all the bits and pieces.

He nods, then stands up, wiping his hands on his uniform. "Getting there. Enjoying the peace and quiet."

"Yeah. Hey, I spoke to Jon this morning, got some good news." I can't help but smile already.

"Oh yes?" He's giving me a half-smile, amused by my obvious good mood, I guess.

"An old friend of mine's coming on board. He's an engineer, come to see how the professionals do it," I grin.

"And does he have a name?" Mal asks.

"Tom. Tom Davenport," I say.

Mal freezes for a second, then seems to try to speak, but no words come out. He swallows, then asks "Um, Ad-Admiral Davenport'sâ€¦son?" he asks, sounding a little funny.

"Yeah. You've heard of him?" I guess Mal's respect for authority is going to go into overdrive.

"We'veâ€¦met."

I look at Mal more closely. He looks a little pale, and I wonder if he's eaten yet today. Knowing Mal, probably not. "So you know Tom? That's great. I went through training with him, you should have seen some of the stuff we got up to," I laugh.

Mal nods slowly, and gives me a small smile. He looks fidgety and I guess I'm interrupting his work, so I give his arm a squeeze. "I'll see you for lunch in an hour or so, okay?"

He gives me a curt little nod and I think his attention is already on the inside of a torpedo launcher.

I walk back to Engineering with a spring in my step.

 

At lunchtime Mal seems real quiet. I wonder if it's because of yesterday or because he's still thinking about his current circuitry problem.

I keep talking, and the occasional response I do get feels hard won. My leg finds its way to pressing against his under the table and he smiles for the first time. I grin back, trying to get him in a playful mood, but he's not having any of it. By the end of lunch I think more of his mood has worn off on me than mine on him.

I decide we probably just need some quiet time together and plan on fetching him at the end of our shifts and spending the evening with a movie in my quarters or something. Maybe that'll make him relax, forget about the pictures and everything.

T'Pol hasn't said a word to me, and Jon doesn't seem inclined to mention yesterday again. I just wish we could find out where those pictures were sent from. But I guess if anyone could do that it'd be Mal, and he hardly seems willing to. Besides, if he could have surely he'd have found out last time.

I'm pre-occupied for the afternoon, trying to think of something special to do for Mal. I figure I'll fetch something nice from the mess that we can have cold, then let him pick a movie. I think it'll do him good to spend some time out of the public view. He knows he can just be himself with me.

 

Tom coming onboard will be fun. We used to play all sorts of pranks in officer training and somehow I can't see that stopping just because we're on Enterprise. I only hope that whilst having fun we can also get Mal to relax some and treat Tom as a friend, not as the son of an admiral.

Towards the end of my shift Jon comms me and asks me up to his ready room. I hope he doesn't want anything that'll take long, because I want to go and sort some things out for Mal and me.

When I enter Jon's sitting at his desk. He looks up at me, his attention immediately on me, not his work.

"Trip, how're you?" he asks.

I frown, this isn't how our conversations usually start. "Fine. You?"

Jon ignores my question. "How's Malcolm been today?"

And we're immediately into the real reason for this meet.

"He seemsâ€¦quiet. But then he always is." I shrug, not knowing what to say. I can hardly tell Jon that all I think he needs is a good hug and a bit of time. "He'll be fine, y'know Mal, he'sâ€¦he won't let something like this get him down."

Jon nods slowly. "Keep an eye on him, Trip. I know we're all busy, and with Tom coming onboard there'll be even more to do, but I'm counting on you. I take it you know him well enough to notice if something's seriously wrong."

I just about stop myself from grinning. Jon's just given me all the excuse I need to spend a little extra time with Mal. "I'll do that," I answer, nodding.

"Good." Jon smiles, and I know this is his way of showing his approval of Mal and my relationship.

 

Almost a week later everything seems to be back to normal - Mal's been putting in long hours and I'm not sure if it's because of the pictures or because he wants the armoury in top shape for Tom's arrival. Possibly a bit of both. He tells me what he's been doing occasionally, but whilst I can keep up with some of what he says, the weapons-related stuff is a little beyond me. I just nod and smile. He spends more time looking at the screen of a padd than into my eyes.

Tom's arrival is imminent and I take a minute to go and check on his cabin. I debate leaving some sort of practical joke to welcome him, but then I decide that would be a little mean. And I'd rather lull him into a false sense of security anyway. I can't help but smile at the thought of seeing him again - I hope he'll lend a little light relief to what's been going on recently.

Tom's transport finally docks with us about an hour late. Mal makes it to the meet'n'greet lineup with a few seconds to spare. Jon gives him a look that suggests he expected better, but Mal seems impervious. T'Pol and Phlox stand patiently, I can't help smiling and Jon waits by the airlock as various clanks and hisses sound out as seals and locks are formed. Then the green light shines and Jon reaches for the door, pulling it open wide and watching as Tom ducks through the walkway, his kit bag on his back and a smile on his face. He salutes smartly. "Permission to come aboard, Captain," he grins.

"Granted, Mr Davenport, granted." Jon reaches out and shakes his hand enthusiastically. "I trust your journey was comfortable?"

Tom nods, although he's not looking at Jon. I turn to follow his gaze and see that Mal is the subject. Mal's expression is unreadable, but his eyes are fixed on Tom, unblinking. "It was, thank you, sir," Tom answers politely.

"And let me introduce my senior crew." Jon waves an arm at us. "Although I believe you already know certain members."

Tom shakes my hand, slapping me hard on the shoulder. "Trippy, I suppose it was only a matter of time before they had to send me out to show you how it should be done, huh?" he laughs.

I drag him into a hug and slap him on the back. "They told me that they knew I was the only teacher who'd put up with you," I answer. "Don't worry, we'll show you the ropes, youâ€™ll probably get the hang of it."

"And this is our doctor, Phlox," Jon continues.

I watch Phlox smile and nod, his hands never coming out from behind his back. It must be hard, getting around our social occasions whilst avoiding physical contact. T'Pol graciously extends a hand whilst Jon introduces her. "It is pleasant to make your acquaintance," she says politely. "I have met your father, through my work for Vulcan."

Then they move onto Mal. There's something going on that I can't quite put my finger on - neither Mal nor Tom will break eye contact with each other as Tom reaches out his hand. Mal salutes, ignoring the offered hand.

"And this is our head of security, tactical and the armoury, Malcolm Reed," Jon smiles.

"Yeah, we've met," Tom drawls. Malcolm visibly stiffens. So do I, I imagine. Why didn't Mal say anything to me?

"Oh, I had no idea," Jon beams. "Well then, it seems like you'll take no time to settle in. Trip will show you around, then we'll see about assigning you duties in engineering. I'm sure you'll find everyone here very friendly, so don't hesitate to ask about anything."

Tom returns to my side, although he's still looking at Mal, whose gaze is now fixed on the wall in front of him.

"Dismissed, everyone," Jon calls as he joins us, and before I can call out Mal's gone, striding briskly down the corridor in front of T'Pol. It's only once he's out of sight that I realise he's going the wrong way for the turbolift.

I try to put my lover's odd behaviour out of my mind as I show Tom first to his quarters and then around the ship. We stop for lunch in the mess, catching up with what's been going on in each other's lives. He's been busy back in R&D and tells me about some of the things that are being worked on - exciting projects that almost make me a little jealous that I'm stuck out here with the Warp five engine, not back getting stuck into making six and beyond a reality. But then I think about everything we've done out here and realise that whilst I might miss out on some of the latest technical developments I see things that no Human has ever seen before. And of course, Mal's here.

I want to ask Tom how he and Mal know each other, but something stops me. I think perhaps I don't want Tom to think I care. Just like I didn't say anything when he was telling me about his wife - I could easily have mentioned that I too had a partner, but this same feeling held me back. Maybe I just don't want him to think I've changed from when we used to go out picking up girls. Anyway, I promised Malcolm that I wouldn't say anything, and I've already broken that promise by telling Jon. I won't do it again.

Maybe I'll talk to Mal. Although seeing as how he didn't volunteer the information in the first place I can't see that he'll be too helpful. It crosses my mind that maybe it has to do with the SSF, but then I dismiss the thought. I know that Tom's never had anything to do with that branch of Starfleet. Unless he developed some sort of technology for them, I ponder. In which case, neither man will say anything to me; they're both professionals and their work was no doubt covered by the secrets act.

By the time we've finished eating and are heading towards engineering I figure that everything will come out in good time. I'm not the most patient of people, but I can wait.

"Where to now?" Tom asks.

"Engineering," I reply.

"I haven't seen the armoury yet," Tom replies casually.

"Oh. We'll stop by there then," I answer.

"I'm sure I can find my own way, if you point me in the right direction," Tom smiles at me.

I feel suddenly uneasy and shake my head. "I'll take you there, it's no problem."

 

We walk onto the upper level of the armoury and I look around for Mal. There's no one about, so he must be off somewhere, messing about with one of the aft torpedo launchers or something. I wave my hand. "Well, this is it," I smile.

He nods, looking around. "No staff?" he asks.

"There's Malcolm and Crewman Deveraux," I answer. "Mal works alpha shift, Deveraux's on gamma. Apart from that we sub crew over here from engineering or security."

"Why no beta shift crew?" Tom frowns.

"Well originally Deveraux was the beta shift, but Mal realised that it was more important to have someone in here when most of the crew would be asleep. If we have an emergency during beta it's likely that most of the crew would still be awake and on hand." I don't add that most of the time Mal pulls double shifts.

Tom nods again. "So engineering works pretty closely with the armoury then?" he asks, smiling.

"Some of the crew do, yes." I wonder if he's fishing for information about me and Mal, but then I dismiss the thought, he couldn't have found out about us, no way.

 

I don't see Mal again until late in the evening, after I get back from having dinner with Tom. He looks tired and doesn't say a word as he readies for bed, folding his uniform neatly as he dries from his shower. I don't say anything either - I have no idea what to say.

Eventually, as he climbs into the small bunk he looks across at me. "I shall need to take the power to the aft torpedoes offline tomorrow," he says. "I'll tell you about it in the morning."

"Is that where you were earlier?" I ask. "Tom and I dropped by, but you weren't in the armoury."

He gives a curt little nod, then turns his back to me, wrapping himself in the blankets. I sit and look at him for a long moment, wondering what I've missed.

 

I find myself spending a lot of time in engineering over the next few days. Mainly I'm with Tom. Sometimes it's because I don't want to be with anyone.

Mal's acting strangely, in that he's being perfectly normal. I mean, he's being the model officer, as always, and then when we're together in the evening, which isn't for long, most nights, he's polite and dutifully loving. I get kisses on the cheek when we meet, an arm around me when I sit close to him, a hug when I get into bed. What I don't get are stolen moments in a corridor, I don't get knowing smiles across the bridge. I miss the pointless visits to engineering, the jokes, the arguments. I miss everything that was special between us. And there's something else I'm missing too. Something to do with Tom.

It makes me think a bit harder about just how Mal and Tom know each other. And the conclusions I jump to perhaps shouldn't shock me as much as they do. I mean, I'm hardly the only officer to pick up a whore for some companionship.

I also realise that there's really not much I can do about the situation. I can hardly cast stones - besides, it's clear that Mal has moved on, so I should too. Leave history be. Mal chose me; it's my bed he comes to every night.

Then, as I lay in bed alone, waiting for Mal to arrive, I begin to wonder. There seem to have been a lot of things happening in the armoury lately that require Mal to stay on for double shifts and beyond. I haven't seen him for dinner for a week now. He just arrives back in my room late, showers and sleeps. I should know what he's been working on, but I can't remember him telling me anything specific, and I've been so tied up in working with Tom that I haven't even been into the armoury for days.

My door slides open and Mal slips into the room, looking directly at me, as if checking to see if I'm awake.

"Evenin'," I say softly.

"Trip," Mal replies, by way of a greeting, already bent over to undo his boots.

"You're late," I say, propping myself up on my elbow to watch him.

"There were things I had to attend to," he answers vaguely.

I nod.

"I just need to shower," he says, pulling his jumpsuit down as he heads for my bathroom.

I nod again, although he obviously can't see me.

 

Ten minutes later he's back, and, as always, I turn to face the wall and he spoons behind me, his arm around me. I wish I could see his face. I remember the first time we shared a bed, the way he held my head against his chest, so that I couldn't see his expression. I wonder if that's all he ever does with people - manipulate them so they never see the true Malcolm Reed. It wouldn't surprise me.

 

The next morning he gets up and I don't move. I wait until he leaves before sitting up. I dress and head straight for the armoury, forgoing breakfast. I walk into the main room, quietly closing the door behind me. It seems that the place is deserted, until I hear voices. It sounds like someone's behind the blast shielding, in the test area. So I walk toward it, my footsteps silent. I should feel guilty creeping about like this, but I don't; I feel justified.

I stand by the side of shielding, away from the viewing panel and listen.

"I've told you, it's not going to happen," I easily identify Malcolm's clipped tones, and he sounds angry.

"Why? Not got the balls?" Tom's laugh is distinctive.

There's a silence, but I can imagine the look on Mal's face. No one calls him a coward.

"I have work to do, Commander," he says coldly.

I realise I'm about to be caught eavesdropping, so scuttle back out of the door. Once in the corridor I take a moment to compose myself, before re-entering the armoury, clanging the door back on the wall to announce my presence.

I just miss clouting Tom as he was obviously about to leave the room. He barely acknowledges me - he looks angry. I turn to see if Mal's about, but he's obviously still in the test area.

"Mal?" I call out.

There's a short pause before he appears, tugging his uniform into shape, not looking at me. "Commander?" he says, and I can hear the tension in his voice.

I wonder what they were arguing about. I know Tom can rub people up the wrong way - and I know that Mal can fly off the handle if he's needled, so somehow it doesn't surprise me that the two of them have had a disagreement already.

"Umâ€¦Iâ€¦" I realise that I'm not sure why I've come to the armoury, apart from wanting to see Mal. I also realise that I wouldn't normally feel like I needed an excuse. â€œI just missed you this morning, that was all.â€

Mal nods. â€œIâ€™m sorry. I had things to attend to,â€ he answers.

â€œShall we spend some time together tonight?â€ I ask. â€œJust us?â€

Mal pauses for a moment, then nods curtly.

â€œYou and Tom been working together?â€ I ask. â€œI just bumped into him on my way in,â€ I gesture to the door.

â€œThe commander and I were discussing something,â€ Mal says, turning away and making it clear that the conversation is over.

*******************************

In the following week or so Mal relaxes some, but heâ€™s not back to his old self. Heâ€™s distant, even when weâ€™re alone together. Not in his actions â€“ heâ€™s still affectionate, and we still make love. I just feel like heâ€™s always distracted, as if heâ€™s going through the motions a bit. I wonder if Iâ€™m losing him, and what on earth I can do to make things better.

 

I suppose I was distracted when it happened. At least, I didnâ€™t notice the warning light that I know must have been flashing. I was working on the engines when a conduit gives out. The hot plasma just catches me as I jump backward and hit the emergency shut down. The burns reach up my right arm, my uniform seems to be almost melted to my skin. I bite back a cry of pain, then head for the comm. panel. I put in the call to sickbay, not entirely sure I can make it there on my own. Luckily one of my staff notices me and runs to my assistance with the first aid pack. She carefully lays the cooling gel strips over my arm, as weâ€™ve all been taught to, then helps me to Phlox.

News always travels fast on ship and itâ€™s only ten minutes before Malcolm strides into sickbay. â€œWhereâ€™s Trip?â€ I hear him asking Phlox. He sounds angry, and I wonder if heâ€™s just trying to mask his concern for me.

â€œAh, Mr. Reed. The commander is just over there,â€ Phlox says cheerfully.

The force with which Mal pulls the curtain back almost wrenches it from its rings. Then he stops dead, looking at me.

One of Phloxâ€™s creatures is suckered onto my skin. I never ask what they do anymore â€“ Phloxâ€™s descriptions of their healing powers usually sounds worse than whatever theyâ€™re curing. Other than that, Iâ€™m fine. The burns didnâ€™t go much more than skin deep, although they do look a lot worse now that Phlox has had a go at removing most of the charred uniform cloth from them.

â€œYouâ€™re all right?â€ Mal asks, sounding surprised.

I frown. â€œYes â€“ well, I will be once Phloxâ€™s little sucker-thing here has kissed me better.â€

â€œIâ€¦I was led to believe thatâ€¦you know what rumours are like,â€ he finishes, looking relieved. â€œWhat happened?â€

I shake my head. â€œI donâ€™t know, well, I do, the conduit overloaded and failed. But Iâ€™ve done the same thing a thousand times over, and itâ€™s never happened before.â€

â€œWhat about the warning systems?â€ Mal frowned. â€œIf the isolation valves had failed before you began work on the conduit then the warning light should have showed.â€

â€œI guessâ€¦I just wasnâ€™t paying attention,â€ I shrug. â€œI was thinking about other things.â€

Mal shakes his head and I know I should have been more careful. He doesnâ€™t need to worry about me on top of his other problems.

â€œWasnâ€™t there anyone else working with you?â€ Mal asks.

â€œTom was, but heâ€™d just gone to check on something,â€ I answer. â€œMaybe if heâ€™d been there it wouldnâ€™t have happened, heâ€™d have spotted the warning, but you know what they say about hindsight.â€

Mal turns away, then, almost as an afterthought, turns back. â€œIâ€™ll be back in to see you later,â€ he says, his attention clearly off me and onto something else.

Iâ€™d hoped for a bit more, from my lover. He didnâ€™t even get closer than a few feet. Usually when one of us ends up in Phloxâ€™s care we at least get a few minutes of holding hands, offering comfort.

 

Phlox lets me go before Mal is back. I decide to quickly visit engineering before I go to my cabin. I want to see the damage Iâ€™ve caused so I can plan repairs. Phlox has told me to take it easy for tonight, so I donâ€™t feel like Iâ€™m disobeying him completely just by having a look.

When I get there I see Mal. Heâ€™s standing by the damaged area, scanners and tools all around him. Half the hatches on the wall are off, stacked around him.

â€œWhat ya doing?â€ I ask as I walk up behind him.

He jumps. â€œCommander, I thought you would still be with the doctor.â€

â€œHe let me go. I thought Iâ€™d come and check on the damage Iâ€™ve caused.â€

Mal closes down the file on his padd and I wonder what he doesnâ€™t want me to see.

â€œIt seems to have been a faulty valve, when you isolated the system it was leaking, and, coincidentally, some sort of power malfunction rendered the warning lights inoperative.â€

I frown, I canâ€™t see how any of the valves would have got through the routine checks if they had been defective, and it seems strange the warning system could have so easily been rendered useless. But I trust Malcolm. He takes his job very seriously and I know that he will have examined everything before coming to any conclusions.

â€œSo it was just bad luck then?â€ I answer.

He nods slowly. â€œYes, I suppose you could say that, Commander.â€

He looks exhausted, so I nudge him on the shoulder. â€œCome to bed, then. Iâ€™ll get down to sorting all this lot out in the morning.â€

He looks up at me and nods. â€œLet me tidy away, then Iâ€™ll join you,â€ he says.

I leave him as he replaces the hatches and begins clearing down all his tools.

 

Mal seems a bit more attentive after my little mishap. He asks me what Iâ€™m doing, takes an interest in the running of engineering. During the day he visits me, asks how Iâ€™m doing. I notice that heâ€™s far more formal when Iâ€™m working with Tom, but I suppose thatâ€™s to be expected, so I donâ€™t really mind.

 

Then, to break up the monotony a bit, we receive a call for help from another craft. The Yopaythians had some sort of trouble on board and are limping along with barely any power. Itâ€™s quickly established that we can probably help them, so Jon sets about organising things and finding out about our new friends.

He comes down to engineering and asks if Tom and I would mind going across to the other vessel and providing their engineers with some supplies as well as a bit of help. This is the kind of thing I feel like we should be doing out here. Not just meeting new species, but helping out and forging friendships. It puts me in a good mood, plus I think itâ€™ll be great for Tom to see what we really do out here. Itâ€™s the first time heâ€™ll be present for a first contact, and thatâ€™s the sort of thing everyone keeps a special memory of.

Itâ€™s not long, though, before Mal appears. â€œCaptain, I really think that you should send some security personnel with the commanders.â€

I sigh. I knew this was coming. I know that often Malcolm is right, but equally often we donâ€™t end up in any trouble. Also, this time, I think a bit of me wants to show Tom that Iâ€™m the brave explorer. I donâ€™t need my hand held.

Jon smiles at Malcolm. â€œWell, Iâ€™ll leave it up to Trip to make the call, but I really donâ€™t think it will be necessary. The Yopaythians have asked for our help and theyâ€™ve been very helpful and friendly towards us. Right now Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi are swapping information with them on their culture as well as the regions of space they frequent.â€

"Sir, really, I feel that it would be advisable to have a small security presence on the other ship," Mal says to me, as I knew he would. But I take Jonâ€™s side, given that heâ€™s already basically told Mal to back off.

"Oh, don't worry, Lieutenant, I'll be there, watching Trip's back." Tom smiles at me. "So barring accidents, we'll be just fine. And you know, sometimes there's nothing anyone can do to stop accidents."

I'm not quite sure what's going on, so frown at Tom.

"I mean, the other day, Trip, when that power grid got a feedback surgeâ€¦there was nothing anyone could do to stop that. But I'm sure nothing like that will happen," Tom smiles widely at me.

Malcolm looks a bit pale, but I guess he just doesn't want to think of me hurt. I mean the burns were pretty ugly until Phlox fixed me up, and Mal did go a little loopy over me that night, fussing and all.

"We'll be fine," I say to him, slapping him on the arm.

"Of course we will," I hear Tom say from behind me.

I see Mal's eyes fixed on Tom, not me, and I feel like there's some conversation going on that I'm not hearing.

"Sâ€¦sir," Mal says, hesitantly, "That security issue we've been discussing. Iâ€¦think I can resolve the problem, if you're free for half an hour tonight?"

"For you, Malcolm, I can spare a couple of hours," Tom smiles.

"Yes, sir," Mal answers, and again I wonder if I'm missing something. I mean, if Mal and Tom have been discussing something it must be related to engineering somehow. Mal used to come to me when he wanted to discuss engineering specs. Maybe I really am missing something. I decide to try and find out this evening. At least I can quiz Tom onboard the other ship.

 

We leave in the shuttlepod, I fly with Tom sitting in the co-pilotâ€™s seat.

â€œWhat was all that about, then?â€ I ask Tom.

â€œAll what?â€ Tom asks.

â€œWith Malcolm. What are you two doing?â€

Tom shrugs. â€œNothing important. One of the guys back at R&D gave me some specs for one of the new security systems that theyâ€™re working on. He knew that Reed was here so he asked me to show him and see if he could help â€˜cause they canâ€™t figure it out at all.â€

â€œOh, I see.â€ I feel a little bit silly now, because of course thereâ€™s no need for me to know about it. Maybe thatâ€™s why Malâ€™s been a bit pre-occupied as well. He hates it when he canâ€™t figure out the answer to a problem and he lets stuff like that weigh on his mind.

â€œYouâ€™re lucky to have a guy like him,â€ Tom says.

I turn around, a little bit too fast. â€œWhat do you mean?â€

Tom looks at me strangely. â€œI mean that Enterprise is the better for having someone like Reed running her tactical systems. Heâ€™s the sort of person that should be in the job â€“ heâ€™s got the mind for it, not just the muscle.â€

â€œOh.â€ I realise that Iâ€™ve got be a lot more careful with my reactions or Iâ€™ll give the game away. Tom obviously already thinks Iâ€™m acting strangely.

 

Nothing happens on the other ship. We fix their problems as best we can â€“ theyâ€™ll be able to limp towards home at least. Their technology wasnâ€™t particularly advanced, they just didnâ€™t have the facilities to make new components, so the ones that had been damaged couldnâ€™t have been replaced without our help.

Iâ€™m very glad that Malâ€™s concerns were unwarranted, but I also know that every time we go on one of these missions without any backup it makes it less likely that Jon will send security the next time.

 

When we return to Enterprise Mal comms me. He asks some inane question regarding borrowing a tool, then asks if weâ€™re both okay.

I frown, itâ€™s obvious that the first question was just to get into conversation, and I wonder why Mal feels he needs an excuse to ask me how we got on. Weâ€™re lovers â€“ it would hardly be an unreasonable question to ask.

I wonder if someone is with him â€“ or perhaps he doesnâ€™t want Tom to hear his concern. Perhaps heâ€™s just trying a bit harder than I seem to be to hide our relationship.

â€œWe got on just fine,â€ I assure him. â€œEveryoneâ€™s happy, no mishaps.â€

Thereâ€™s a pause before he answers. â€œGood.â€

He cuts the signal before I respond and Iâ€™m left staring at the comm. panel.

 

I start loading up the tools to take back to engineering and push the barrow piled high with toolboxes down the corridor, Tom walking beside me. As we pass the door to the top deck of the armoury I suddenly turn to Tom.

â€œPut all that back, will you? Thereâ€™s something I need to do.â€ I donâ€™t let him answer, just duck through the door and close it firmly behind me.

Thereâ€™s the sound of a phase pistol going off so I clatter down the steps to the test area. Malcolm appears, obviously wondering whoâ€™s entered the armoury unannounced.

He looks me up and down, almost as if he expects me to be injured or hurt somehow.

â€œIâ€™m fine,â€ I say. â€œWent like clockwork. They looked after us too.â€

Mal just nods.

â€œWhat are you up to?â€ I ask. I want to reach out and touch him, but his manner tells me he wouldnâ€™t appreciate it.

â€œJust recalibrating the phase pistols and rifles. Iâ€™ve got a class to take this afternoon.â€

â€œAnd tonight youâ€™re seeing Tom?â€ I ask, bluntly.

Mal looks very odd and nods. â€œYes,â€ he says, his voice sounding slightly strangled.

I nod slowly. I may not be the best person for picking up other peopleâ€™s emotions, but even I can tell that somethingâ€™s going on that I donâ€™t know about.

 

That evening I eat dinner alone in the mess hall, a padd in my hand and a look that I hope will keep everyone else away. I donâ€™t feel like making idle chit-chat.

On the padd is Tomâ€™s service history, downloaded from the database. Iâ€™m looking to see if thereâ€™s any time when the two of them can have worked together, but I just canâ€™t see anytime when it could have happened. In the end Iâ€™m forced to conclude that Tom probably met Mal the same way I did.

I just hope that what they have â€“ what they had â€“ isnâ€™t anything like what I have with Mal. It certainly doesnâ€™t seem so on the outside, but I know that Mal can hide his feelings, and Tom wouldnâ€™t exactly be shouting from the rooftops that heâ€™d made it with a rentboy either.

Itâ€™s almost nine oâ€™clock when I get back to my cabin. Mal isnâ€™t there â€“ not that I expected him to be. I decide that what Iâ€™m doing is stupid, Iâ€™m torturing myself with so many ideas and stories that Iâ€™ve made up, when I could just walk down the corridor and see both of them. I stand staring at my door, hand on the release button, for a long time. Iâ€™m not sure I want to know what I might be about to find out.

 

Eventually I walk down to Tomâ€™s room. I push the chime button and wait. Nothing happens, and Iâ€™m about to turn away when curiosity gets the better of me. I punch in my engineering override, looking up and down the corridor as I am afraid of being caught snooping on one of my best friends.

As the door slides open I take one last glance around me and step forward. Then I stop dead in my tracks.

Mal is standing by the side of the bed, pulling his coveralls up. His boots are on the floor next to him, his henley unbuttoned. Most damning of all Tom is lying in bed, obviously naked under the sheets.

Mal freezes, the colour draining from his face.

Tom looks up at me. â€œDonâ€™t bother to knock, will you Trip?â€ he says.

I stare at him, unable to believe he can imply that Iâ€™m in the wrong here. Iâ€™ve just walked in on him and my boyfriend and I think my world might have ended.

â€œWhat in hell are you doing?â€ I shout, furious.

â€œTrip,â€ Malcolm says, his voice barely audible. â€œIâ€¦canâ€¦â€

â€œWhat?â€ I shout. â€œYou can what? Explain? Explain why youâ€™re in his bed not mine? Explain why youâ€™ve been acting so strangely ever since you heard he was coming aboard?â€ I jab a finger accusingly at Tom, whoâ€™s now sitting up. â€œDid you think you could get a few more perks by sleeping with him? Think his daddy would give you something more than you could ever get from me?â€

â€œNo, no, Trip, itâ€™sâ€¦â€ Malâ€™s pulling his coveralls over his shoulders, holding out his hand as if to try to calm me down.

â€œItâ€™s what? Not what it looks like? I was stupid to think that youâ€™d ever be more than a fucking whore and I was stupid to expect anything better from you, but I am not stupid enough to believe that this isnâ€™t exactly what it looks like,â€ I snap, seeing that my words hurt him and feeling some small victory inside.

Tom swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing between us, the sheet wrapped around his waist. I can see that Malâ€™s eyes are bright with unshed tears, his expression absolutely wretched.

â€œI think thereâ€™s some sort of misunderstanding,â€ Tom says smoothly. â€œTrip? Are you sayingâ€¦you and Malcolm wereâ€¦areâ€¦together?â€

I glare at him, then at Malcolm, whoâ€™s turned his back on us both.

â€œI had no idea, Trip!â€ Tom protests. â€œYou know I would never â€“ I meanâ€¦oh my God, Trip, Iâ€¦â€

I turn, hitting the door release button hard, and walk away down the corridor. When I reach the end I glance around, assuming that Iâ€™ll see Mal coming after me, full of protests, or at least heading for his own cabin, to come to terms with what heâ€™s done.

But he isnâ€™t there. Theyâ€™re obviously both still in Tomâ€™s room. Probably talking about how they wish theyâ€™d never been caught. Wondering what theyâ€™re going to do about me.

I suddenly feel very very alone.

 

Iâ€™ve been in my room for about half an hour when the chime sounds. I sit for a minute, not knowing how Iâ€™ll react if itâ€™s Tom or Mal â€“ or worse still, both.

The chime sounds again, so I get up and press the button. Malâ€™s there. Heâ€™s changed into casual clothes and he looks appalling, wrecked. Thereâ€™s no life in his eyes, no colour in his face. He looks sick. But right now I really canâ€™t find it in me to care.

â€œWhat?â€ I ask, my tone flat.

He looks into my eyes, as if heâ€™s reading what he sees there.

â€œThereâ€™s nothing I can say to make you understand. Justâ€¦I thought I was doing the right thing.â€

I stare at him. Somehow I didnâ€™t expect that. I thought there would be excuses, I thought he might beg my forgiveness.

â€œIf you think you can no longer work with me then I shall understand,â€ Mal says. â€œBut never think that I wanted to hurt you.â€

He turns and walks away from me.

I donâ€™t know what to think. Mal seems to have gone into tactical mode. Maybe he never really separates himself from his work. I wonder what it is that allows him to justify what heâ€™s done to himself. Because thatâ€™s what heâ€™s done, or at least, thatâ€™s what I think heâ€™s done. How else can he be so calm. In his head heâ€™s somehow figured out that what heâ€™s doing is better for someone, and knowing Mal, it wonâ€™t be him. Iâ€™m so confused and angry that I know I wonâ€™t sleep.

 

The next day I donâ€™t see Mal. I stay in engineering, obviously giving off vibes that Iâ€™m really not in the mood to interact with anyone, as my crew keep their heads down and stay out of my way.

Iâ€™m in the office, trying to figure out some calculations, when someone knocks gently on the door.

I look up and see Tom standing outside. I suppose I didnâ€™t expect to see him today either, but as heâ€™s on duty in my department he doesnâ€™t have much choice. He comes into the office, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

â€œI donâ€™t know what to say, Trip.â€

I give a small huff of breath and shake my head. In truth, I donâ€™t know either, but somehow I feel like he should be making the effort, not me.

â€œI didnâ€™t know, Trip. I didnâ€™t know there was something between the two of you. Youâ€™ve got to believe me. I would never have done anything with Malcolm if Iâ€™d ever have thoughtâ€¦but you like girls, Trip. Or at leastâ€¦thatâ€™s what I thought.â€

I look up at Tom. He looks genuinely sorry.

â€œHe didnâ€™t everâ€¦even mention me?â€ I ask.

â€œNotâ€¦like that, no. I know that you two were friends, but I never imagined it went further, Trip.â€

I nod slowly. I still feel angry at Tom, but I guess he didnâ€™t know he was doing anything wrong.

â€œWhy did you bypass the lock on my door?â€ he asks me.

I look up, surprised, although I know I shouldnâ€™t be. I suppose Iâ€™d forgotten that I wasnâ€™t exactly being a model officer myself, when I found them.

â€œI thought that there was somethingâ€¦I donâ€™t know. I suppose I knew that something was going on.â€

â€œWhy didnâ€™t you say something?â€ Tom asks. â€œYou could have warned me off, just had a quiet word. I never wanted to tread on your toes, Trip. You could have just told me, I wouldnâ€™t have said anything to anyone else and this would never have happened!â€

â€œI promised Mal that I wouldnâ€™t tell anyone aboutâ€¦us,â€ I answer. â€œHe wasâ€¦he didnâ€™t want anyone to know, onboard. I think heâ€™s had bad experiences before, with things like that, on ships.â€

Tom nods. â€œOr perhaps he tells that to everyone he has sex with,â€ Tom answers. â€œHe said the same thing to me, Trip. Can you be sure that he hasnâ€™t been with other people, since he came onboard? Maybe Iâ€™m not the first? I donâ€™t want to upset youâ€¦but you canâ€™t really be sure, can you?â€

I stare at him, not wanting to hear what heâ€™s saying, but knowing that it could be true. All the late nights, all the times Mal doesnâ€™t come to bed when he says he will, the times when I canâ€™t find him and he claims to be off in the far reaches of the ship, embroiled in some work-related problem. Maybe there are others. Heâ€™s above suspicion, no one would ever think it of him, the uptight Brit, whoring himself all over the ship. Even now, with all the evidence, I canâ€™t really believe that Mal would do such a thing.

â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ Tom says. â€œPlease donâ€™t throw away our friendship over this. We agreed once, remember, that weâ€™d never fight over a woman. Donâ€™t let us lose the years of friendship we had over a man.â€

I nod. â€œI canâ€™t justâ€¦forget this happened, Tom. Butâ€¦Iâ€™ll try, I meanâ€¦â€ I wave a hand, and he nods.

Last night I could never have believed that my friendship with Tom could ever be salvaged, but after hearing his side of things a small part of me canâ€™t help but feel heâ€™s almost as much of a victim as I am.

 

That evening I end up outside Jonâ€™s quarters. I need to talk to someone, and it seems like heâ€™s the only person who I can tell the whole story to.

Iâ€™ve hardly seen him all day, so Iâ€™m pretty sure he doesnâ€™t know that anythingâ€™s happened, but as heâ€™s been so kind to me and Malcolm I figure itâ€™s only fair that I should keep him in the picture.

â€œJon, you got time to talk?â€ I ask as he opens his door.

He nods, a quizzical smile on his face. â€œOf course, come in, sit down. You want a beer?â€

I nod and sit on the chair by his desk. He passes me a bottle and turns off the screen that heâ€™d obviously been watching water polo on, then sits on the bed.

I take a long draw of beer, then look down at the bottle in my hands.

â€œItâ€™s about me anâ€™ Malcolm,â€ I say.

He nods, frowning.

â€œWe sortaâ€¦split up.â€

Thereâ€™s a long silence, Jon obviously doesnâ€™t know what to say.

â€œIs this because of those pictures?â€ he asks. â€œI thought the two of you had gotten over that? Itâ€™s been weeks.â€

â€œIt wasnâ€™t that,â€ I answer, although thinking back on it that was when Mal first started acting strangely around me.

â€œThen what? Have you had some sort of a fight?â€

I shake my head. â€œIt wasâ€¦he slept with Tom,â€ I answer.

Jon is stunned into silence, his mouth hanging open.

â€œOh, Trip,â€ he says after a while, his voice full of sorrow for me. â€œIâ€™m so sorry.â€

I just nod. There really isnâ€™t anything to say.

â€œWhat about Tom â€“ I mean, are you two going to be able to work together?â€

â€œWe had a talk today. He didnâ€™t know that Mal and I were together. I canâ€™t blame him forâ€¦well,â€ I shrug. â€œI think weâ€™ll be all right.â€

â€œAnd Malcolm?â€ Jon asks, obviously apprehensive of the answer.

â€œI donâ€™t know,â€ I answer truthfully. â€œI donâ€™t know what to think about Malcolm anymore.â€

â€œSo the pictures â€“ perhaps they showed us more of the real Malcolm Reed than we thought?â€ Jon asks carefully.

I feel a flare of anger, because it still pains me to think of Mal being abused like that, but I canâ€™t help wonder now if he might be right. Maybe Mal hurt someone else like heâ€™s hurt me, and they are out for revenge. Maybe he made up the story about being drugged. I honestly donâ€™t know what to believe anymore.

â€œI donâ€™t know. Itâ€¦Mal cares about Starfleet. He wonâ€™t do anything to harm this ship. I guess if he can work with me thenâ€¦Iâ€™ll manage too,â€ I say. â€œJust donâ€™t push it,â€ I warn, knowing that Jon thinks he has a knack for diplomacy and seems to enjoy trying to help people who would probably be better off left well alone.

Jon holds up his hands. â€œIâ€™ll treat the two of you as if this has never happened,â€ he answers. â€œAlthough I donâ€™t see why Malcolm should object to working with you, if he was the one who cheated on you.â€

I canâ€™t meet his gaze. â€œI thinkâ€¦I said some things to him thatâ€¦they werenâ€™t exactly polite,â€ I answer. â€œI havenâ€™t seen him all day.â€

â€œSounds like heâ€™s doing the wise thing and keeping his head down,â€ Jon observes.

â€œI really loved him,â€ I say out of the blue.

Jon scoots across the bed and leans his elbows on his knees. â€œThereâ€™ll be others, Trip. You know that.â€

I look up at him. â€œHe was special though â€“ when I first met him, I just knew. I made such a fool of myself andâ€¦I donâ€™t know,â€ I think back to those precious few hours we spent together. I knew he was sleeping with other people then, and it didnâ€™t bother me. Why am I so upset now?

â€œI canâ€™t believe that the two of you were seeing each other before and you never told me,â€ Jon says. â€œI mean, if he meant that much to you, why didnâ€™t you say something back then?â€

â€œI never thought it would go anywhere,â€ I answer truthfully. â€œI didnâ€™t think weâ€™d meet again â€“ I didnâ€™t know he was going to join Starfleet.â€

â€œOh,â€ Jon frowns. â€œSo the two of you met in a bar or something?â€

â€œSomething like that,â€ I answer.

â€œAnd you didnâ€™t keep in touch? I mean, if the two of you were so closeâ€¦â€

â€œIt wasnâ€™tâ€¦â€ I think back to Malcolm explaining to me why he hadnâ€™t accepted my offer all those years ago. â€œIt wasnâ€™t appropriate, at the time.â€

 

The next morning I get up early and head to Malâ€™s cabin. I know that I have to speak to him sooner or later, if weâ€™re going to keep Enterprise running smoothly and Iâ€™d rather do it off-duty.

Thereâ€™s no answer at his door, and for a moment I wonder whose bed heâ€™s in, then I think more rationally. He often goes to the gym in the morning, or he might have started his shift early. I head for the gym first, because if heâ€™s started work then I can hardly have the conversation I intend to.

 

Sure enough heâ€™s working on the punchbag. I can see heâ€™s putting every ounce of his strength into hitting the bag, and the dent in it is impressive. Sweat is running from his face and his tank is soaked.

â€œMal â€“ Lieutenant Reed?â€ I say, not knowing if heâ€™s ignoring me or genuinely hasnâ€™t noticed me.

He stops punching and catches the bag, then wipes one taped hand over his face and turns to look at me. His eyes are red, and I could swear that not all the moisture on his face is sweat.

â€œWhatever happenedâ€¦with us, weâ€™ve got to work together. I just wanted toâ€¦I need to know weâ€™re going to be okay, on the bridge or whatever.â€

He gives a curt nod. â€œI can assure you, Commander, that nothing will affect my ability to serve Enterprise.â€

 

I leave it at that, turning and walking away. I know thereâ€™s so much more that needs saying, but Iâ€™m not sure that Iâ€™m up to that yet â€“ my emotions are still all over the place.

 

I wish that Iâ€™d had the courage to talk it out with him then, because, a few days later, events occur that throw my whole world upside down.

We find a planet that Jon takes an immediate interest in. Itâ€™s nothing special â€“ well, only special in that we havenâ€™t been planetside for weeks now, and everyone onboard getâ€™s a bit stir-crazy. Jon thinks that it might be suitable for some shore leave, so he arranges a landing party to go down and have a look around.

I volunteer to fly the shuttle, and Jon tells Tom he should come down to get his first taste of an alien world. For once Jon doesnâ€™t argue when Mal asks to provide some security. I think heâ€™s a little worried about arguing with Mal right now, after all that has gone on.

The six of us travel down to the planet in silence, even Jonâ€™s quiet, as heâ€™s chosen to pilot. Malcolmâ€™s issued us all with phase pistols, so we look like weâ€™re going to war rather than to try and find a nice spot on the beach for a bit of leave.

When we land and open the door the warm air hits us. Malcolm is first out of the â€˜pod, followed by his two security officers.

â€œSteiner, go left, Penfold, straight ahead,â€ he orders, breaking off to the right himself.

As they perform their choreographed moves Jon steps down and stretches in the sunshine. It does seem farcical, the security team sweeping the area whilst Jon looks more like a tourist fresh off the transports in Florida, but I watch it all without comment.

â€œCome on then, Tom,â€ Jon smiles. â€œSet foot on foreign soil.â€

Tom jumps down, grinning. â€œItâ€™s not much different to Earth,â€ he observes.

â€œYeah, thatâ€™s what they all say,â€ I drawl. â€œUntil they find some six foot long bug thatâ€™s bright blue and tries to eat your head.â€

Jon smiles. â€œTâ€™Pol scanned the area. Iâ€™m sure sheâ€™d have mentioned any predators.â€

â€œIâ€™m just sayinâ€™,â€ I begin to protest about how not every away mission has gone smoothly, when I realise I might sound a bit like Mal, so I shut up.

Malcolm returns to us, not looking at Tom or me.

â€œNothing to report, sir, the immediate area is secure. I suggest we form teams of two and continue a sweep of the area.â€

Jon nods. â€œSure thing. Letâ€™s all look out for a good camp site. Somewhere nice and flat, with some shade as well as some water or something nearby.â€

I know that Mal will be fuming, as Iâ€™m pretty sure thatâ€™s not the sort of sweep he was meaning, but I donâ€™t even look at him.

I pair up with Jon, leaving Tom and Malcolm with one of the security team each. I know that Mal will have planned it so that Jon, Tom and I should each go with one of the security team, but I feel like spending a bit of time with Jon, so I just set off with him without asking.

 

Itâ€™s about an hour later, as Jon and I are walking along next to a stream in some sparse woodland, that the communicators crackle into life.

Itâ€™s Steinerâ€™s voice, but shouting, and the tone tells us something is desperately wrong.

â€œWeâ€™re being attacked! Aboutâ€¦two clicks north-west ofâ€¦weâ€™reâ€¦fire,â€ the words are partly drowned out by the sounds of weapons fire and other interference. I look at Jon and as one we begin running.

I hear Malcolmâ€™s voice come over the channel demanding that Steiner repeat their position and for a second Iâ€™m overcome with relief that itâ€™s not him under attack. Although it means that Tom is.

As we approach the area we can hear the weaponsâ€™ fire. I wonder what anyone can have done to provoke this sort of a situation and pray that we come out of it without serious casualties.

I can hear the distinctive sound of phase pistols, so Jon and I slow down, trying to see any of our people.

I spot a uniform through the trees â€“ someone is hiding behind a rock there. I point them out to Jon who nods.

When we finally get close enough to see whatâ€™s going on itâ€™s obvious that weâ€™re outnumbered and losing fast. I can see phase beams coming from behind another rock, but itâ€™s impossible to tell if there are one or two people pinned down there. The person we first saw is Tom, who looks to be okay, apart from some mud on his uniform. I wonder if Tom and Steiner were ambushed and managed to fight a few of them off before running for cover.

â€œTrip, Captain,â€ he calls to us. â€œTheyâ€™ve got our boys pinned down, Iâ€™m not sure what we can do.â€

â€œCall Tâ€™Pol,â€ Jon orders me. â€œIâ€™m going to try and work my way around and help.â€

I nod, finding somewhere to hide. As Iâ€™m talking to Tâ€™Pol the firing seems to intensify â€“ itâ€™s almost deafening, and I still havenâ€™t even seen one of the aggressors. I can only assume that theyâ€™re hiding on the higher ground. Theyâ€™re using some sort of projectile weapon, making it hard to gauge exactly where theyâ€™re positioned, whereas the phase beams pinpoint us far too well. I look across to Tom and see him throwing something. I hope that his phase pistol hasnâ€™t given out, because if weâ€™re reduced to throwing rocks then I canâ€™t see how this will end well.

â€œTrip!â€ I suddenly hear Jon shouting. I stick my head around the tree Iâ€™m hiding behind and see Jon firing wildly from his own hiding place. â€œQuick, I need you to cover me.â€

I just nod, firing at where I think our enemy might be positioned. Jon darts away and I lose sight of him, but I see Tom making his way to my position.

â€œItâ€™s no good, we need to retreat,â€ he calls. â€œTheyâ€™ve got everyone â€“ I saw Reed and Penfold both go down, and I havenâ€™t seen Steiner since the beginning.â€

My heart clenches and I feel sick. I know that in my head Iâ€™ve told myself that I donâ€™t feel anything for Malcolm Reed anymore, but my heart just wonâ€™t give him up.

â€œJonâ€™s gone down there,â€ I point, still firing with my other hand. â€œYou lay down cover; I have to get him back.â€

Tom nods and takes over shooting. I follow Jonâ€™s tracks, keeping low and moving fast, just like Mal taught me.

I see Jon with a body at his feet, but I know immediately it isnâ€™t Mal â€“ the build is all wrong. I rush to help, firing over my head.

â€œHeâ€™s still breathing,â€ Jon shouts, grabbing Penfoldâ€™s arm. â€œHelp me. I canâ€™t see anyone else.â€

I half drag half carry the security officer, Jon and I both firing behind us as we go. Once we reach Tom he covers our backs as we run for the shuttle.

Tom races in front of us as we near the shuttle, the firing from behind us is now only sporadic and the engines need to be initialised, so I half help Jon drag Penfold in through the hatch, firing into the trees all the time.

 

As the shuttlepod takes off Iâ€™m shaking. I know I should be helping Jon take care of our injured colleague, but all I can think about is Malcolm.

â€œWhat happened?â€ Jon growls to Tom.

Tom doesnâ€™t turn around.

â€œI donâ€™t know â€“ we were just walking along when suddenly â€“ they were there. They had their weapons drawn. I pushed Steiner out of the way and ran myself. I didnâ€™t know what else to do â€“ I didnâ€™t understand what they were saying. I heard Steiner calling for help, so I started firing â€“ not trying to hit them, just scare them away. Anyway, the next thing I know, I see Reed and Penfold, but they were coming in on our flank. I couldnâ€™t see everyone at once, but I could hear the phase pistols. I think Reed was shouting something, but I couldnâ€™t hear him properly. I tried to keep moving, but I got pinned down. I saw Steinerâ€¦they shot him in the head. I tried to shout out, to tell Reed to retreat, but thenâ€¦Iâ€™m sure he didnâ€™t make it. I saw him go down.â€

Jon looks up at me, both his hands pressing down on a wound in Penfoldâ€™s back which is pulsing out blood. Iâ€™m frozen, I want to move, I know I should help, but none of my limbs feel up to it, as if theyâ€™re made of lead.

â€œTell Tâ€™Pol to have Phlox waiting for us,â€ he orders Tom, his tone low and angry.

 

I donâ€™t really remember us getting back to Enterprise. I move around not really seeing or hearing anything. All I can think of is what I said to Mal that night and how now Iâ€™ll never speak to him again.

Tom sticks near to me, and although I donâ€™t want to, and I know Iâ€™m just torturing myself, I have to ask.

â€œTomâ€¦what happened? You saidâ€¦you saw Mal?â€

Tom looks distraught, but he nods. â€œI was justâ€¦I was going to tell him to run â€“ it was no use, we werenâ€™tâ€¦we werenâ€™t going to win. I looked around and justâ€¦he stood up, and started running. I think â€“ I think he must have been trying to get to Steiner, maybe he thought thatâ€¦he could help. But you could see he was dead, so Iâ€¦he just ran, towards the main lot of them. He was firing all the time, but there were too many. I saw him hit, more than once. Then â€“ I had to take cover, but when I looked again theyâ€™d gone, and Malcolm and Steiner too. Iâ€™m so sorry, Trip. But it was likeâ€¦it was like heâ€™d gone mad. He just ran at them. He couldnâ€™t haveâ€¦he couldnâ€™t have expected to survive. It was suicidal.â€

I walk away from Tom without a word. Iâ€™m so numb that Iâ€™m not even crying. Once I reach my quarters I just sit, staring at the wall. I know that I should be on the bridge, helping Tâ€™Pol with the scanner sweeps. Malâ€™s body might be down there, at least if I could just see him once more, even if he wereâ€¦deadâ€¦I could tell him I was sorry. He diedâ€¦he killed himself, thinking that no one cared for him, and I know that Iâ€™ll never forgive myself for that.

 

Hours later I havenâ€™t moved, the door chime finally pulls me out of my thoughts.

â€œEnter,â€ I call, my voice almost cracking.

â€œTrip,â€ Jon says, walking in. â€œPenfold made it. Heâ€™s just come out of surgery. Phlox says itâ€™ll be a while before he wakes up, but heâ€™s through the worst.â€

I nod, not caring, although I know I should. Malcolm always said that life was important â€“ any life. I wish Iâ€™d have remembered that when I was ripping his to shreds.

â€œAnd Tâ€™Polâ€™s still scanning butâ€¦thereâ€™s nothing so far.â€

â€œHow did I let this happen?â€ I ask Jon, tears flowing down my face.

He looks shocked but quickly sits down, leaning close to me.

â€œThis wasnâ€™t your fault, Trip. No one could have seen this coming. There was nothing in the database to suggest thatâ€¦â€

â€œNo,â€ I cut him off with a wave of my hand. â€œI mean Mal. How can I have let him die down thereâ€¦and think that nobody cared for him. He killed himself because he had nothing left to live for.â€ I know Iâ€™m getting hysterical, my voice is raised and I realise Iâ€™ve got a fistful of Jonâ€™s shirt twisted in my hand. I let go abruptly and turn away, suddenly feeling sick again. I push myself to the bathroom and puke in the sink. All I want to do is get away from everything, to stop feeling like this. And in a sudden stab of pain in my heart I realise that if I could run into a hail of bullets right now, I probably would too.

â€œTrip, Trip,â€ Jon pulls me close to him and holds me tightly.

We stand like that for a long time, until Iâ€™ve stopped crying. Iâ€™m exhausted, everything hurts and I know that I donâ€™t want to climb into the bed in which I spent so many nights with Malcolm.

â€œIâ€™ll come and see you again in the morning,â€ Jon says to me. I nod silently. â€œTry and get some sleep,â€ he adds as he leaves.

I lie down only because I donâ€™t have the energy to stand anymore. I guess I sleep, exhaustion taking over, because when Jon wakes me the next morning I havenâ€™t moved. Iâ€™m still in my mud-stained sweaty uniform.

â€œThereâ€™s still no news,â€ Jon reports, looking guilty, as if maybe he hasnâ€™t tried hard enough, which I know isnâ€™t true. â€œHaving heard the evidence Starfleet headquarters have listed both Steiner and Malcolm as missing presumed dead. Theyâ€™ve asked that someone go through their personal belongings. I thought perhaps, in view of yourâ€¦past relationshipâ€¦you should be the one to look through Malcolmâ€™s things. You donâ€™t have to do it right now â€“ just whenever you feel ready.â€

I nod. I know it has to be me to do it, and perhaps itâ€™s the one thing I can do to give back Malcolm a little of his dignity that so many people in his life tried to rob him of. Maybe it will be good for me, too - cathartic, almost.

Itâ€™s the middle of the afternoon before I can bring myself to think about actually going into his quarters though, and even then, the smell that still lingers in there â€“ his shower gel, his natural scent - almost makes me turn around and leave.

I decide to start with the things that have the least to do with him â€“ I sit at his desk and look through the pile of pads he has stacked up.

I try to detach myself from my task. This isnâ€™t Malâ€™s cabin anymore, itâ€™s just a grey room on a starship. The pads hold schematics and information on everything from our systems to upgrades heâ€™s been working on to entirely new ideas that Starfleet have probably never dreamt of. Although this is just work, it still says so much about Mal, about his dedication, about his brilliant mind. I wonder how many of these projects will stall now, I wonder if even the best minds back at R&D will be able to continue with these fledgling ideas. I certainly donâ€™t understand most of them, not at first glance.

Some of the padds have passcodes on them, so I canâ€™t view the contents. I know that Iâ€™ll be able to break the codes, maybe with some help from Tâ€™Pol, but right now I donâ€™t want to get stuck on that, so I just pile them to one side.

Once Iâ€™ve been through everything that seems to be related to the shipâ€™s business I turn and look at the rest of the cabin. I just canâ€™t face the thought of going through Malâ€™s personal belongings yet, even though there arenâ€™t many of them. I sit for a long time, just thinking about Mal, thinking about the good times. And then about what he said to me. He â€˜thought he was doing the right thingâ€™. How can anyone ever think that cheating is the right thing to do? I wish I knew what was going on between Mal and Tom. I should have questioned it straight away â€“ Malâ€™s reaction to Tom coming onboard, the way they behaved towards each other.

Even if Mal didnâ€™t know that I was going to find out about what he and Tom were up to, what made him think that it was worth throwing what we had away. Maybe I was right, and he was just thinking about climbing the promotion ladder by any means necessary. After all, itâ€™s not like he hasnâ€™t sold himself like that in the past.

I scoop up the stack of encrypted padds and walk back to my quarters. I start work on breaking the codes, most of them not proving to be very difficult. Itâ€™s only more schematics, but most of it stuff with a security risk, so classified to various levels.

I lean back in my chair, stretching. Itâ€™s late, the chrono showing that itâ€™s gone midnight. I notice that the message light on my terminal is flashing, so I sigh and click on it. I need to be back in engineering tomorrow, so if anythingâ€™s happened I should know about it.

Thereâ€™s a change to the duty roster and a note from Jon telling me whatâ€™s going on with the armoury personnel. Thereâ€™s also an automated message with a headquarters flag on it. I assume itâ€™s just some sort of update for us until I bring up the main body of the message. Then I stare, my mouth dropping open.

â€˜Commander Tucker, if you are reading this then I have been officially listed as dead. There is something you must do for me. In my cabin above my Akh-do is something for you. Remember the night we stayed up to watch that nebula, drinking beers in your cabin? Imagine thatâ€™s where I am now, Trip, watching over you and Enterprise, seeing that youâ€™ll be safe.

And Trip, please donâ€™t be sorry, because everything I did was for the best, for all concerned, even if sometimes it didnâ€™t seem that way. Iâ€™m just sorry that itâ€™s all over now, because what we had was special â€“ you were special. I never wanted to hurt you, but some things were just too complicated to explain, and I didnâ€™t want anyone else to suffer as a consequence of my actions.

Take care, Trip. I know I can trust you to look after Enterprise and her crew, but please, look after yourself too.

Lt. Malcolm Reed.â€™

 

I read it again and again. Malcolm knew he was going to die, just like Tom said. I canâ€™t believe I let this happen. I canâ€™t believe heâ€™d go to the trouble of setting up a stupid message to be sent to me when his file was tagged as deceased rather than coming and speaking to me.

I get up and walk to Malâ€™s cabin, wondering what it is heâ€™s left me. When I walk inside I stop dead. Iâ€™m not exactly sure why, itâ€™s just some sort of sixth sense. I walk around very carefully, almost tip-toeing, although Iâ€™m not sure why. I notice that the stack of padds is very slightly out of line â€“ Iâ€™d left them perfectly, Iâ€™m sure, knowing that even now heâ€™s gone, Mal wouldnâ€™t want anything out of place. The bed is creased differently too â€“ the blanket is no longer tucked in with Malcolmâ€™s military precision. Someoneâ€™s been in here and searched the place, Iâ€™m sure of it. At first Iâ€™m angry â€“ no one but me should be allowed to do this, no one should invade Malâ€™s privacy in this way.

Then I stop myself. What if Mal did have other lovers â€“ other people who are eager to prevent any incriminating evidence being found. Maybe he had messages sent to everyone, each one with a different hiding place revealed.

I decide I donâ€™t want to think that way, so I pull open the wardrobe door and look upwards. Thereâ€™s nothing above the weapons bag that sits there, so I frown. Maybe someone else has found whatever it is Mal hid for me. The anger returns in me. I shove my hand up to the top of the wardrobe, checking that thereâ€™s nothing hidden on a ledge or taped to the walls. As I touch the ceiling panel it moves slightly, so I push harder. It lifts easily, as if someoneâ€™s loosened the clips. I reach my hand up and feel about â€“ thereâ€™s a padd there, the shape instantly recognisable. I also feel a small package, which I bring down too. Itâ€™s a bag filled with vials of liquid â€“ the sort that fit into a hypospray. I stuff them into my pocket, along with the padd, then carefully replace the panel, checking that no one would be able to tell that itâ€™s moved.

I walk to sickbay first, trying to gather my thoughts. Phlox is working, his desk lit although the rest of sickbay is in darkness.

â€œDoc?â€ I say softly.

â€œAh, Mr. Tucker â€“ and what can I do for you at this late hour?â€

â€œI was just wondering if you could do me a favour,â€ I say, keeping my voice soft. â€œIâ€¦found these, and I thought maybe you could tell me what was in them?â€

I hold out one vial, not willing to give them all up just yet.

Phlox nods. â€œMight I ask where you found them? Drugs shouldnâ€™t be left lying around for just anyone to pick up, hmm?â€

I shake my head. â€œIt wasnâ€™t like that. I justâ€¦Iâ€™m curious, thatâ€™s all. They werenâ€™t lying around anywhere, donâ€™t worry.â€

Phlox nods. â€œGive me a moment, Mr. Tucker, and Iâ€™ll have an answer.â€

He walks to one of his machines, breaking the top of the vial and placing a droplet of the contents onto a small metal plate. A few seconds later the screen flashes up information which Phlox quickly scans.

â€œItâ€™s a strong painkiller, Mr. Tucker. One which should not be used without medical supervision. If you are aware of someone on board who has been abusing this substance I urge you to tell me before they do themselves permanent damage.â€

I shake my head. â€œI donâ€™t think thereâ€™s any danger of that anymore, Doc,â€ I say.

Phlox frowns for a second, then sighs. â€œAh, do I take it that we are referring to Mr. Reed?â€

I nod sadly, wondering why Mal would ever keep a hidden stash of drugs and realising that I should have realised something wasnâ€™t right after the competition, all those months ago. Maybe heâ€™s been using them, maybe thatâ€™s what clouded his judgement down on the planet. Or maybe he just wanted to block everything out.

Before I can say anything else the doors slide open. Both Phlox and I turn and Tom freezes in the doorway.

â€œTripâ€¦Doctor, I, uh, didnâ€™tâ€¦umâ€¦â€

â€œIs there something I can do for you, Mr. Davenport?â€ Phlox enquires.

â€œUh, no, I just came to seeâ€¦â€ he gestures to the one occupied biobed, where Penfold is still hooked up to the monitoring equipment.

â€œThereâ€™s been no change,â€ Phlox replies.

Tom nods, then turns and walks away without another word.

I look at Phlox, who shrugs. â€œIt seems Mr. Davenport has taken an interest in Mr. Penfoldâ€™s condition. Itâ€™s not the first time heâ€™s been in. Last night, in the early hours of the morning he also visited. Claiming he couldnâ€™t sleep and once this afternoon. I believe he is suffering from some feeling of responsibility, for the crewmanâ€™s condition.â€

I nod. Itâ€™s always hard to come to terms with one of your crew being injured or killed, and I suppose Tomâ€™s never been through anything like this before.

â€œThanks then, Doc, I guess Iâ€™ll leave the rest of these with you too then,â€ I say, handing over the bag. Then as an afterthought, â€œCould you just check that theyâ€™re all the same thing? I meanâ€¦just in case, you know?â€

Phlox smiles widely. â€œOf course.â€

I sit at my desk and examine the padd. Iâ€™m tired now, but I feel I owe it to Mal to find out what it is he left me. I turn the padd on and the screen flashes up â€œSecurity Recording: Starboard nacelle strut, level 3.â€ I frown. I canâ€™t imagine that anything much can have happened in one of the struts â€“ not that wasnâ€™t an immediate security concern.

I press the button to continue, but a warning comes up. â€œInput security code.â€

Trust Malcolm, he couldnâ€™t make it easy for me, could he? I frown and try to think of what some of the other codes Iâ€™ve already broken were. There didnâ€™t seem to be much pattern to them. I start trying to work on it, plugging it into the computer, but I still have no luck. Itâ€™s almost as if itâ€™s a triple layer code, as none of the normal alphanumerical programmes are having any luck at all. I wonder if I should ask Tâ€™Pol for help in the morning â€“ then I shake my head, why would Mal leave me a padd for one of the most boring areas of the ship and then put a code on it that I couldnâ€™t crack?

I bring up the message he left again, to make sure that this is what Iâ€™m meant to be looking at. Maybe he really left something important in the vials, and the padd is some sort of decoy. I read the message again. I wonder why he put in the stuff about the nebula â€“ I mean, sure, it was pretty, and we had a great evening sinking beers as we watched it. Most of the crew probably spent a few minutes gazing out at it that night. But there was nothing special that I remember â€“ nothing happened that night that was out of the ordinary.

I try to remember if the thing had a name â€“ I donâ€™t recall that it did, but maybe Mal would have used that as some sort of password, and thatâ€™s why he referred to it.

I bring up the shipâ€™s logs and look back through them. Weâ€™ve passed a lot of Nebulae, but I remember the one Malâ€™s referring to. It just has a code, not a name, so I put that into the padd. Another passcode line, invisible before, appears beneath the first. I groan. Then I work out that itâ€™s the right number of spaces for a co-ordinate, so I put in the first line of the nebulaâ€™s location. Another line appears, so I continue, then a third. Once the entire location has been entered the padd goes blank for a second, and I wonder if Iâ€™ve done something wrong â€“ I even fear for a second that it might self-destruct. Then it comes back to life, a view of a darkened cabin is on the screen. This is certainly not the vid from the nacelle strut.

 

The door to the cabin slides open, and I recognise Tom as he walks in. I sit up, taking more notice now. Tom flicks the lights on, heâ€™s whistling to himself as he pulls his uniform off and heads for his bathroom. I begin to wonder if this is some sort of home-made porn tape, and if so, why on earth Mal thought that I would need to see it, but I keep watching.

Tom dries himself off and dresses in casual clothes, then sits at his desk, presumably working.

About ten minutes of silent vid footage of Tom barely moving is broken when his door chime rings. He gets up and pushes his hands through his hair, tugging his shirt straight.

The door opens to reveal Mal, still in his uniform.

â€œMalcolm,â€ Tom says. â€œGlad you decided you could make it.â€

Mal doesnâ€™t answer, which is unlike him. Heâ€™s normally so polite to senior officers. He just pushes past into the room.

â€œHey, now,â€ Tom turns around and closes the door. â€œThereâ€™s no need to be like that â€“ it was your choice to come here.â€

â€œIt was hardly a choice, was it, sir?â€ He spits out the last word with contempt.

â€œSure it was. And I kept up my end of the bargain, didnâ€™t I? Got Trippy back to you safe and sound.â€

I stiffen, not sure I can believe what Iâ€™ve just heard.

Tom walks toward Mal, forcing him to back up against the wall. Heâ€™s a good few inches taller than Mal, and more heavily built. I know Mal could probably still take him in a fight, but thatâ€™s obviously not on the cards here. â€œI know you checked the conduits in engineering,â€ he says, his face right in Malâ€™s. â€œSo you know I wasnâ€™t lying this time, donâ€™t you?â€

Mal turns away, refusing to make eye contact.

â€œSo what are you going to do for me? It better be good, or Commander Tucker might not be so lucky tomorrow. What are we doing? Ah, working on the impulse engines. Dangerous things, they are â€“ one false move andâ€¦â€

Mal shrugs Tom off and pulls down the zip of his uniform. Itâ€™s obvious whatâ€™s going to happen and Iâ€™m not sure I can watch anymore. I hit the pause button, unable to believe what Iâ€™ve seen. I look down at my arm, long healed now, and realise why Mal was so worried. He thinks that it was his fault. He had obviously not believed that Tom would really harm me, and this had been the proof. I still canâ€™t believe that heâ€™d do what he did to save me. This was obviously his way of gathering evidence against Tom, and he was just biding his time until he could do something about it.

I fast forward through the vid, the sound off, only half my attention on it because I really donâ€™t want to see it. I see myself enter the room, and I donâ€™t need to hear what Iâ€™m saying, because I remember all too well.

 

The tape runs on, after Mal leaves too. Then it pauses and the picture has obviously been digitally enhanced as it zooms down. It focuses on a patch of Tomâ€™s skin, on one hip, and I see a mark there â€“ a tattoo I think, of some sort. I canâ€™t quite make out what it says, but it seems to be letters or numbers. I frown, because Iâ€™m sure Iâ€™ve seen that somewhere before, but I canâ€™t think where.

 

My comm. sounds, making me jump. I move to it, hoping it isnâ€™t Tom, because I honestly donâ€™t know what to say to him right now, I just want to rip him limb from limb.

â€œMr. Tucker,â€ Phlox sounds concerned. â€œI need you to come to sickbay right away.â€

I wonder what heâ€™s found â€“ the vials obviously held more secrets.

â€œOn my way, Doc,â€ I answer. I stuff the padd in my pocket and head out at a run. I havenâ€™t even put my shoes on.

I push through the doors of sickbay as they slide open, looking for Phlox at his desk.

â€œMr. Tucker,â€ he says, from the other side of the room. â€œYou need to hear this.â€

I see that heâ€™s standing over Penfoldâ€™s bed, and the man is half-sitting up, his eyes open.

â€œCom..mander,â€ he starts, obviously still groggy and weak. â€œI donâ€™t thinkâ€¦Reedâ€™sâ€¦dead. Heâ€¦Commander Davenport, shot him, and then, I sawâ€¦andâ€¦heâ€¦me too. Heâ€™dâ€¦already killedâ€¦Steiner. Theyâ€¦took Reed, butâ€¦he was still alive,â€ Penfold finishes.

Suddenly it all starts to make sense to me. Malcolm wasnâ€™t suicidal, but he obviously knew his life was in danger. He was trying to expose Tom, trying to show him up for who he really was. He must have thought I wouldnâ€™t believe him if he just came out and told me â€“ which, to be fair, I probably wouldnâ€™t. And anyone higher up in command would most certainly call into question Malâ€™s version of events against Tomâ€™s â€“ especially if Admiral Davenport became involved.

The most important thing, though, is that this means that Mal may well still be alive. Everyone went along with Tomâ€™s version of events on the planet, and obviously Tom had tried to silence Penfold in the same way he had done Mal. No wonder heâ€™s been taking such an interest in Penfoldâ€™s recovery. Then it strikes me that he probably visited in the small hours of the morning hoping that Phlox wouldnâ€™t be around, so he could finish the job.

I rush to the comm. panel. â€œTucker to Archer,â€ I call, knowing Iâ€™ll be waking Jon.

Thereâ€™s a pause before he answers, sounding very sleepy.

â€œTrip?â€

â€œCapâ€™n, I need you to turn the ship around â€“ Malcolmâ€™s alive, probably, on that planet. And I need security to sickbay, I think Tomâ€™s trying to get to Penfold. And then I need Tom put in the brig. Iâ€™ll explain everything, but believe me, Jon, this is important.â€

â€œWhat?â€ Jon sounds completely confused.

â€œJustâ€¦get security to put Tom in the brig, under guard. Then get to sickbay. Iâ€™ll take full responsibility if Iâ€™m wrong about this.â€

Thereâ€™s a pause, then Jon answers. â€œUhâ€¦yeahâ€¦okay,â€ heâ€™s obviously still half asleep and very confused. â€œIâ€™ll be right there.â€

 

Itâ€™s almost ten minutes before Jon finally appears â€“ his hairâ€™s messed up and his uniform is still half-undone, but then Iâ€™m hardly dressed for business myself.

â€œWhat the hellâ€™s going on, Trip?â€ he asks as he strides through the door. â€œIf Iâ€™ve just locked up the son of one of the most influential admirals on a hunch then you can kiss goodbye to your career.â€

I shake my head. â€œPenfold â€“ he came round. He said he saw what happened on the planet. It wasnâ€™t the attackers who shot Mal â€“ it was Tom. And when he saw that Penfold witnessed it, he shot him too. Phlox says heâ€™s been back in here as well â€“ probably to try to stop the story gettingâ€™ out.â€

Phlox nods beside me. â€œItâ€™s true, Captain. Commander Davenport has shown an incredible interest in Crewman Penfoldâ€™s recovery, and has visited in the early hours of the morning â€“ probably presuming I would be asleep. He obviously knows little about Denobulan physiology.â€

â€œHe could have just been checking up on him! He probably feels some responsibility â€“ he was the highest ranking officer there when all this happened,â€ Jon protests.

â€œPenfold knows what he saw,â€ I insist. â€œTom shot Mal, unprovoked attack. And thereâ€™s somethinâ€™ else you should know too.â€

Jon gives me a look that tells me to keep going.

â€œTom was blackmailing Malcolm.â€

The look on Jonâ€™s face would be comical, were the situation not to serious.

â€œAnd what makes you think that?â€ he asks, his voice sounding a little odd.

â€œMal left me a message â€“ he knew something was going to happen to him, and he recorded a message to be sent to me when his file was flagged as deceased. He told me everything, where to look for the evidence he had. Tom was making threats against me, and to keep me safe Malcolm had toâ€¦â€ Iâ€™m not sure I should say it, because now Malcolm might be alive, and he wouldnâ€™t want anyone else to know.

â€œTo what, Trip?â€ Jon demands.

â€œTo sleep with him,â€ I finish, my voice low.

â€œAnd youâ€™re sureâ€¦Malcolm didnâ€™t just invent all of this, to explain to you why he cheated on you?â€

I suppose itâ€™s a valid question â€“ Jon doesnâ€™t know the full story, he hasnâ€™t seen the evidence. But it makes my insides boil with anger â€“ anger at myself, because itâ€™s the question I would have asked, and now I feel so awful for not giving Malcolm the chance to tell me all this whilst he was here and safe.

â€œNo, thereâ€™sâ€¦evidence,â€ I answer. â€œAnd it all fits, now. Those pictures â€“ the ones which were sent to us. Tom was in them. He was one of the people who raped Malcolm.â€

The room is silent.

â€œThat wasâ€¦those picturesâ€¦â€ Jon stutters.

â€œYeah,â€ I answer. â€œHe was drugged, forced to do that, and Tom was one of the people there, one of the people raping him. Imagine the power Tom had over him â€“ all Malcolm wanted was a career, and he worked damn hard for that. He was one of Starfleetâ€™s brightest minds â€“ and that man reduced him to nothing more than an object.â€

Jon looks at me, trying to take in what Iâ€™m telling him. â€œIs, Trip,â€ he finally says. â€œMalcolm is one of Starfleetâ€™s brightest minds. And weâ€™re going to find him and get him back.â€

 

The ship is set on course back to the planet â€“ and I spend my time fixing the engines to get them working above peak performance â€“ I tell myself itâ€™s so nothing will go wrong at a crucial moment, but itâ€™s also to keep my mind off Mal. I can get lost in the working of the various drives, and time flies by. I almost feel guilty though, when I realise hours have passed without me thinking of Mal and what heâ€™s going through right now. I also wish someone was onboard who I could trust to check out the weapons systems like he would. His crew try, but none of them have the instinct that Mal has.

 

Iâ€™m in the middle of re-routing some power away from an area I want to work on when I realise weâ€™re powering down â€“ the ship is decelerating. I rush to check the warp drive, but nothingâ€™s wrong, itâ€™s the helm who are slowing us. I hit the comm. panel.

â€œTucker to the bridge â€“ whyâ€™re we slowing?â€

â€œTrip, come up here,â€ Archer responds, not giving anything away.

I run for the turbolift, and moments later Iâ€™m stepping out onto the bridge.

â€œIt just appeared, wasnâ€™t on our sensors or anything, then it suddenlyâ€¦well, you can see,â€ Jon points to the viewscreen where a large ship â€“ much bigger than Enterprise â€“ is floating off our port bow.

â€œWell what do they want?â€ I ask. â€œWeâ€™ve got things tâ€™do, in case youâ€™ve forgotten.â€ I immediately wish I hadnâ€™t used that tone in front of the whole bridge crew, but I canâ€™t take it back now.

Hoshi is listening intently, and her hands fly over her console.

She turns and looks at Jon, her face creased in a frown. â€œSirâ€¦I think theyâ€™re saying they have Lieutenant Reed.â€

I stare open-mouthed and Jon jumps out of his seat. â€œOn the viewscreen, Hoshi,â€ he orders.

The being which appears is remarkably human-like. Except for the scales and the ridges that look more reptilian, which stretch over its head and presumably down its back.

â€œIâ€™m Captain Archer of the Enterprise â€“ I understand you have one of our people?â€ Jon says.

The alien begins speaking and the UT takes a moment to kick in.

â€œI am Captain Armedus of the Jacar. We have a Human on board, but we wish to change it. It is one called Davenport we require.â€

Jon shoots a look at me. â€œWe canâ€™t just give you our crewmembers. You must return my officer â€“ Lieutenant Reed. What is it you want from Commander Davenport?â€

â€œHe has promised us information, now he has not delivered.â€

â€œInformation? What information?â€ Jon asks.

â€œIt is not your concern. Hand him to us, and we will return the other.â€

Jon looks at a loss as to what to do. He turns to Tâ€™Pol, signalling to Hoshi to cut the sound link.

â€œSub-Commander?â€ he asks, obviously hoping she has more of an idea of what to do than he does.

â€œI suggest, Captain, that we ask Commander Davenport what they are referring to,â€ she states, her expression impassive as always.

Jon turns to Hoshi. â€œTell themâ€¦tell them weâ€™re working on it,â€ he says, then leads the way to the turbolift.

 

As the three of us approach the brig I can feel the anger building up inside me. If it was my choice Iâ€™d throw Tom to these aliens and let them do whatever they wanted to him. But I know that canâ€™t happen.

He doesnâ€™t bother to stand up as we all appear outside his door. Tâ€™Pol quetly dismisses the crewman on guard duty.

â€œThereâ€™s someone who wants to speak to you,â€ Jon says, his voice cold and hard. â€œSomeone who says that you have promised them something. Do I take it, Commander, that you have been out here trying to sell Starfleetâ€™s secrets?â€

Tom doesnâ€™t answer at first, then turns to look at us. â€œWhen my father hears what youâ€™ve done to me â€“ what youâ€™re accusing me of - youâ€™ll all suffer. He wonâ€™t stand for it, you know,â€ he says.

â€œRight now I donâ€™t give a damn about your father,â€ Jon spits out. â€œBut I do care that you have murdered one member of my crew, injured another and have betrayed this organisation â€“ betrayed Earth â€“ and for what? Why would you do that?â€

Tom shakes his head. â€œYou donâ€™t understand. You couldnâ€™t â€“ because it was all right for you, wasnâ€™t it? You hung onto your fatherâ€™s coat-tails all the way to the captainâ€™s chair. Do you think for a minute you would be here if it wasnâ€™t for Henry Archer? You think you would have won this command post on merit?â€

Jon looks shocked, so I step in. â€œIn case you hadnâ€™t noticed the Capâ€™n and me worked damn hard on this project. He didnâ€™t expect this â€“ he worked for it.â€

â€œAnd I worked too, Trip â€“ I worked for everything Iâ€™ve got, and Iâ€™m still just a commander.â€

Once I wouldâ€™ve thought that perhaps Tom did deserve to be something more, but now I know his true character, I canâ€™t even believe heâ€™s gotten this far. To think he was once one of my best friends makes me worry about my judge of character.

â€œAnd how many people suffered as you got to where you are?â€ I say. â€œHow many people did you take advantage of? How many people did you hurt like you hurt Malcolm?â€

He looks at me, eyes wide. â€œMalcolm?â€ he asks. â€œWhatâ€™s he got to do with this?â€

I turn away, unable to speak. How he can still pretend to be innocent after everything is just beyond me. I turn back, eyes blazing, determined that he should sit in the brig and think about what fate awaits him.

â€œIâ€™ve got all the evidence â€“ Penfold told me you shot them both, Iâ€™ve seen the video from your cabin on that night. And I know it was you in those pictures, and it was you who sent them. Iâ€™ve got all the proof that Starfleet will need. And now, just to top it all, we have some alien ship sittinâ€™ off our port bow telling us youâ€™ve tried to sell them information. There is nothing your father can do to save you this time - nothing.â€ I begin to walk away then, not wanting or needing to see his reaction.

Iâ€™m about to hit the door release when I hear Jon begin to cry out, I spin around, alarmed, only to see everything shimmering around me. Enterprise fades out and when I blink Iâ€™m in a light blue room, the brightness hurting my eyes. I squint, and realise itâ€™s not just me who has been transported, but all of us who were in the area â€“ including Tom.

We all look around, lost, when a door opens on the far side of the room. The creature we spoke to on the comm. link is there â€“ or at least, it looks like him, but sometimes itâ€™s hard to tell one alien from another. Heâ€™s flanked by what I presume are guards.

â€œWe want only the one called Davenport,â€ it states, looking at us.

I use every ounce of concentration not to look at Tom.

â€œYou canâ€™t justâ€¦â€ Jon waves his arms around. â€œWeâ€™re Starfleet officers, you canâ€™t just take us like this!â€

The being looks impassive. â€œWe have.â€

I step forward, not caring about the diplomacy or the rights and wrongs. â€œWhereâ€™s the officer youâ€™ve got â€“ whereâ€™s Malcolm?â€

The alien turns to me. â€œYou wish to see him?â€

I nod.

He turns to one of the guards and quietly gives an order. The guard leaves, and I hope this means that Mal is okay â€“ walking wounded, perhaps.

â€œYou may take him back, if you give us Davenport. We had a deal, and he has betrayed that trust. This is not acceptable.â€

â€œItâ€™s not acceptable to us that he offered you a deal,â€ Jon counters. â€œHe was betraying us â€“ our planet. What did he offer you? What information?â€

â€œWe will not say. This would not be in our interests,â€ the alien replies.

Itâ€™s hard to know what to do â€“ weâ€™re helpless, and I donâ€™t see how Jon can talk us out if this. I just hope that someone back on Enterprise is working damn hard.

 

The doors slide open and I feel sick as two guards drag Mal into the room. Heâ€™s a mess, his face bloodied and bruised, his uniform ripped and heâ€™s clearly having trouble staying upright. But his gaze is steady, and it rests on Tom.

â€œThaâ€™s him,â€ he slurs around swollen lips. â€œThe one you want.â€ He raises an arm and points.

Two more of the alien guards step forward and grab Tomâ€™s arms, he protests, trying to escape their clutches.

â€œMalcolm!â€ Jon obviously canâ€™t believe that Malâ€™s just given Tom up. Neither can I, to be honest. Even after all heâ€™s been through, Mal just wouldnâ€™t normally do that.

â€œCaptain!â€ Tom sounds desperate as heâ€™s dragged toward the alien leader.

Mal looks at Jon. â€œHe was trying to tell them everything. Our schematics, capabilities, allies. He was selling Starfleet out. I wouldnâ€™t tell them anything.â€

â€œBut you canâ€™tâ€¦â€ Jon shakes his head in disbelief.

I can understand Malcolm wanting Tom dead, I suppose, but even in his current state I canâ€™t believe Mal would think it a good idea to just hand him over to these aliens. He still has all the knowledge they want, after all.

Mal manages to stand on his own.

â€œâ€™Ve given you whaâ€™ you wanâ€™,â€ he says wearily. â€œNow let us go.â€

The leader nods at him once, and speaks into a small device on his arm.

I feel the familiar tingle of the transporter, and this time, as we fade out thereâ€™s a light, a beam, and itâ€™s coming from Malcolm.

Just as the alien ship disappears from my view I see Tom crumple to the floor, the phaser beam having hit him full on the chest.

I open my mouth, and as I materialise on Enterprise the sound gathers around me, spilling out into the corridor weâ€™re in, back outside the brig.

I see Malcolm heading for the comm., seemingly before heâ€™s even fully re-formed. â€œHelm, warp-drive, now!â€ he shouts, and milliseconds later I can feel the engines kicking in.

Mal is leaning against the wall, his head bowed, blood dripping from his chin. I move toward him, still in shock and not really sure Iâ€™ve seen what I thought I did.

â€œMalcolm!â€ Jon says sharply. â€œWe canâ€™t just leave Commander Davenport on that ship!â€

Tâ€™Pol looks at Jon.

â€œI believe that Lieutenant Reed has solved that problem,â€ she says, as calm as ever.

Jon turns to look at her, and I canâ€™t believe he missed what happened on the ship.

â€œLieutenant Reed shot Commander Davenport.â€ She takes two strides and removes the phase pistol from Malcolmâ€™s hand, examining it. â€œIt is set on kill.â€

I feel myself going cold. I mean, I knew that Mal had done it, but somehow the confirmation still chills me to the bone. The fact there was no hesitation on Malcolmâ€™s part, and as he turns to look at Jon now, there is no sorrow in his expression.

â€œI fully expect you to court martial me, sir,â€ he says. â€œBut I could see no other way out. We could never have got Commander Davenport back from the Eeshkree, and if they had him then they would also have all the knowledge he possessed.â€

Jon looks completely lost for words. I wonder if heâ€™s going into shock.

â€œIf the commander had returned to Earth,â€ Tâ€™Pol says slowly. â€œHe would have been tried for the murder of Crewman Steiner. He would have been sentenced to life on a penal colony. For many, I believe that death would be a welcome alternative.â€

Jon turns to her, his mouth opening and closing.

â€œIt would also have brought considerableâ€¦dishonourâ€¦on his family and onto Starfleet. Humans are often worried by the thought of invasion or attack by another species, it seems, and the publicity which would surround this matter on Earth would only serve to confirm some of their worst fears. Whilst Vulcans would not find the death of the offender a suitable alternative to trial and punishment, there are many species who would.â€

I look at Malcolm. I donâ€™t know what I expect to see in him, but when I see nothing it both saddens and almost disgusts me. Iâ€™ve never killed anyone, and I canâ€™t imagine what it would feel like, but I know I would feel something. To think that after everything weâ€™ve been through, Malcolm can still hold his emotions under such a tight rein really does make me wonder if Iâ€™ll ever really know the true Malcolm Reed.

I thought weâ€™d come a long way since the first time Iâ€™d met him, on the cold rainy streets, but now I wonder if weâ€™ve just come full circle. I couldnâ€™t read him then, because he didnâ€™t want me to see who he really was, and what he was doing to secure his place in Starfleet, and I canâ€™t read him now, now that heâ€™s committed an act which might well be the end of his career.

Jon finally manages to speak. â€œMalcolm, go to sickbay. Trip, make sure he gets there. Tâ€™Pol, with me.â€

 

We walk toward sickbay in silence, Mal occasionally staggering slightly. I want to help him, but I canâ€™t. He doesnâ€™t acknowledge my presence.

Finally, when weâ€™re in the turbolift he clears his throat slightly. â€œItâ€™s not the first time Iâ€™ve killed,â€ he states, his voice flat and emotionless.

And I know it isnâ€™t â€“ Iâ€™ve seen him blow ships out of space. But that wasnâ€™t the same â€“ that wasnâ€™t as real. He wasnâ€™t killing someone I knew then.

â€œI know.â€ My voice sounds hollow.

â€œThey would have attacked Earth. The things they asked me, the things they tried to beat out of me. He was going to give them that information, Commander, for the price of a ship of his own.â€

I nod, but Iâ€™m not really taking the words in.

 

Phlox tuts when he sees Malcolm and busies himself with scanners and hyposprays. He begins by mopping the worst of the blood away, leaving just the cuts on Malâ€™s face visible â€“ the red deep and vivid against his pale skin.

When he moves on to removing Malâ€™s clothing the bruising is dark, a multicoloured testament to the savage beating Mal must have taken. I wonder if he was of sound mind when he shot Tom. He seems to know exactly what heâ€™s done, but there could be a way we could twist it to make it seem as if he wasnâ€™t in control when he did it. Although going to court martial with that sort of defence will probably get him thrown out of Starfleet.

 

Jon and Tâ€™Pol appear in sickbay whilst Phlox is still working on Mal. Jonâ€™s expression is grim.

â€œCapâ€™n?â€ I question.

â€œIâ€™ve been in contact with Starfleet Command,â€ he says. â€œIâ€™ve told them that Commander Davenport was killed.â€

My face falls. â€œWhat did they say?â€

â€œThey said theyâ€™d inform Admiral Davenport that his son had been killed in the line of duty. I explained that we couldnâ€™t recover the body.â€

It takes me a moment to understand what heâ€™s telling me.

â€œYouâ€¦didnâ€™t sayâ€¦I meanâ€¦Malcolmâ€¦â€ I stutter.

Jon glances toward the biobed, and I see that Malcolm is watching us intently.

â€œWe keep the truth between the four of us. No one else ever need know.â€

I can see the toll this is taking on Jon, and I appreciate what heâ€™s doing.

â€œItâ€™s the right thing to do,â€ I say softly.

He nods once. â€œI know.â€

Tâ€™Pol steps forward. â€œI think perhaps it would beâ€¦advisableâ€¦for the four of us to discuss the matter, once Lieutenant Reed is fit to do so. It is important for Enterprise that this matter is resolved between you all.â€

Jon and I both nod.

 

When Phlox has finished with Malcolm he doesnâ€™t look much better, but the blood has stopped flowing and heâ€™s clearly half knocked-out by pain medication.

â€œCan I ask you to escort Mr Reed back to his quarters?â€ Phlox says to me. â€œAnd it would be advisable if you could remain with him â€“ I donâ€™t feel he needs to stay in sickbay, but I donâ€™t think he should be left alone either.â€

I nod and wait for Mal to ease himself off the biobed. The walk to his cabin is clearly painful for him, but he doesnâ€™t say anything, and once inside he carefully drops onto his bunk.

â€œYou okay if I stay with you?â€ I ask, still not entirely sure how welcome I am.

Malcolm nods.

I sit on the chair, elbows resting on my knees.

â€œI read the message you left â€“ it came through when you were reported missing presumed dead.â€

He nods again.

â€œYou could have told me, about Tom,â€ I continue.

â€œI doubt you would have believed me,â€ he says. â€œI would have sounded vindictive, bitter.â€

â€œYou could have tried â€“ he hurt you Mal.â€

â€œAnd he threatened to hurt you. The word of a rentboy, a whore, against that of a commander â€“ the son of an admiral? No one would have believed me, and in the time it took to get the evidence he would have had you killed, Trip â€“ and maybe others too. He picked you because he knew you would trust him, he could get close to you â€“ he had no idea we were together, that was just pure luck for him. He knew that I would do whatever it took to save the life of any person on this vessel. But the fact he would call you a friend, yet be willing to kill you for no reasonâ€¦I couldnâ€™t forgive that, Trip. I could never forgive that. And once he was out here he was free to sell Starfleet out to the highest bidder. All he wanted was power. I didnâ€™t want to kill him, but I canâ€™t say Iâ€™m sorry that I did.â€

I wonder how else this could have ended. I wonder if there was any way in which everyone could have lived. I begin to think there wasnâ€™t.

â€œThe captainâ€¦heâ€™s protecting you, us, Tom â€“ no oneâ€™s ever going to know about this,â€ I say. â€œStarfleet will believe whatever we tell them.â€

Mal nods. â€œItâ€™s for the best â€“ for Starfleet. No one wants to think we have people out here who are willing to betray Earth.â€

It worries me to think there could be others like Tom, but Iâ€™m glad that there are also people like Mal, people who are willing to do whatever it takes. I donâ€™t think I could. I donâ€™t think I could have pulled that trigger, no matter what the stakes were.

 

â€œCommander, Lieutenant,â€ Jon greets us curtly as we walk into his ready room together.

â€œCaptain,â€ Malcolm responds, standing to attention.

â€œWhat happened, on that ship, yesterdayâ€¦it must never be spoken of. It was perhaps one of the darkest hours in the history of this organisation. But I hope it will serve to make us stronger â€“ I hope that out of the tragedy we can learn. What Commander Davenport did was unforgivable, but I hope we can all take the time to step back and look at our own actions to. I canâ€™t help but think that somehow this entire situation could have turned out differently, but thereâ€™s no point on dwelling on what could have been. This ship has a mission, and I believe we have the finest crew and the finest vessel, and I intend us to be a beacon of hope to Earth. If anything ever becomes public regarding what has happened in the last few days then Starfleet â€“ and in turn, Earth â€“ may never recover from it.â€

We both give the smallest of nods.

â€œMalcolmâ€¦I want you to know that you are the finest tactical officer I have ever worked with. I canâ€™t condone what you did â€“ but I thinkâ€¦I think Tâ€™Pol has helped me toâ€¦comprehend the reasons behind your actions.â€

Malcolm nods curtly.

 

We donâ€™t talk about it, Mal and I. I suppose there really isnâ€™t much to be said. I want to ask some questions, but I donâ€™t know how. The news filters down that Admiral Davenport is going to leave Starfleet â€“ take early retirement. Malcolm doesnâ€™t react to it. I donâ€™t think he lets himself.

There are times I wonder what would have happened if I hadnâ€™t ever met Malcolm â€“ if he hadnâ€™t joined Starfleet. I wonder if Tom would still be alive â€“ I wonder if Earth would still be intact. If Mal hadnâ€™t been so determined â€“ so single minded - that he would let nothing stand between him and Starfleet then we could all have been destroyed.

When he told me, in his dingy room, that he had grander plans for his life I would never have believed that one day we might owe the survival of the human race to the rentboy who stood in front of me.

 

~Fin


End file.
